I Cried For You
by BlurtItAllOut
Summary: AU. Kurt and Blaine meet in a psychiatric ward. We follow the boys throughout high school and their developing relationship. Sometimes love heals better than therapy. When reality is too much, it's good to be distracted. How can two broken boys help each other? Or will they end up hurting each other more? Warning: Slight superficial talk about a failed suicide attempt.
1. Worn down

**AN: **

**English is not my first language, so please forgive any wrong grammars or wrong words - but please let me know, so I can improve.**

**This is my first fanfiction, so feedback would be really appreciated!**

** Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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A firm, brisk nurse with short but energetic steps is escorting Kurt from one end of the hospital area to the other. She has got a tight hold on his bag with one hand, the other hand clasping to hold the woollen knitted cardigan together in the wind. Kurt is numbly walking two steps behind her, too tired to care about their surroundings or watching were he's going. He follows obediently, what else can he do?

The nurse – Kurt thinks maybe she had introduced herself, but his mind is too clogged up for anything new to stick at the moment – stops in front of an old, yellow bricked building. She goes for the door bell, explaining who they are in the speaker, and the door is buzzed unlocked for them. Kurt reads the big sign on the ground next to the entrance. "Building 17. Psychiatric emergency ward."

They walk up the stairs to the next floor, and the corridor seems old. Dusty, worn, boring, neglected, in desperate need of some TLC, tired. The corridor looks the same way Kurt feels.

A big blue door with a key card lock greets them. The nurse pushes the door bell, and shortly after a person in a white uniform opens the door and lets them silently in. He escorts Kurt and the nurse into an examination room, and motions for Kurt to sit down on the examination bed. The nurse who had walked him from the ER explains she has to go back to her duties, but that Kurt will be taken good care of here, and she hopes he has a healthy recovery before she wishes him good luck, and disappears. Kurt is left with a face he can't remember having seen before. He can't swear it's a stranger; the last 12 hours are just a blur of faces, names, questions, medical equipment, sleep, insomnia, poor food and relentless examinations. Kurt feels alone. Lonely. Again. As usual.

An elderly woman enters the room, reaches out her hand to Kurt and introduces herself as Margaret.

"We try not to stay too formal here, and stick to first names, if you're comfortable with that". Her smile seems genuine, and reaches her brown eyes. Her head is tilted slightly as she gives Kurt a warm look. He just shrugs his shoulders, meeting her eyes quickly, before looking down again.

"Well, Kurt, I know you must be tired, but unfortunately we have some procedures to go through before I can show you your room. First I'm obliged to go through your bag to make sure you haven't brought anything forbidden. I know you haven't been told what's on that list, so don't panic, this is just normal routine, and people always bring things we can't allow into the ward because they don't think about them as dangerous. Is it OK for you if I open your bag and check your things?"

Kurt nods slowly, shortly. Why did she even ask, if it was compulsory routine? What could he have brought that was banned? Did he have anything in the bag that was valuable to him, and something he didn't want to be without? Honestly, he didn't know. His father had packed the bag, and at that time Kurt couldn't care less about what his father would choose from his wardrobe and bathroom. He still wasn't sure if he cared, although he _knew_ he should care. After all he was Kurt Hummel, stating his personality and identity through his fashion and how he chose to meet the world. Yeah, he _was_ Kurt Hummel. Once upon a time. Right now he didn't know who he was anymore.

Margaret closes Kurt's bag after it has been thoroughly checked, and shows a small pile of stuff they will have to confiscate, but she promises he will get it back as soon as he is signed out of the ward.

In the pile, Kurt identifies two belts, some glass bottles with skin care products, dental floss, the chargers to his iPod and cell phone, his razor and the vitamin pills.

"Do you mind being without these things?" Margaret asks softly. Kurt just shakes his head. He hardly believes he's in a position to object, and honestly he doesn't care.

"Good", Margaret continues. "Now we want to do a quick health check on you. I know you've been in the ER all day, but we just want to make sure you're still fine", she says and places a stethoscope to his heart after warming it with her hands first. She slides the stethoscope down Kurt's hospital shirt, still unbuttoned in top from the last heart check. Kurt just sits there, having nothing to say or nothing to do. Nothing really matters, nothing is important enough to care. He just wants to get this over with, and crawl into a bed, hopefully get some sleep, and maybe disappear from this world for a while.

Margaret continues to check his blood pressure, and Kurt doesn't even wince when the sphygmomanometer tightens hard around his biceps.

"Are you hungry? Would you like anything to eat before you go to bed? Supper was served before you came, but I can make you some sandwiches if you want", Margaret offers. Kurt declines silently, politely waiting for a bed he's really longing for.

"OK, but if you should want anything, we are here all night, so just find us in the corridor or in the commons room, and we'll get you what you need", the nurse reassures. "So here is your room, and you find a bathroom down the hall".

Kurt enters through the door Margaret has opened for him. He takes three steps into the room before turning around to her, smiling strained and small to her, but enough for her to smile back. "Someone will come by around 7 in the morning for a blood sample, but don't worry about that, you can sleep while they take the blood if you want to", she says and closes the door behind him.

He puts his bag on the only chair in the room. There's a hospital bed, a small night stand with a small drawer, and a narrow wardrobe. Should he pack out of his bag? How long is he staying for? Kurt doesn't remember anyone telling him this. With a sigh he opens his bag to find the pyjamas and toilet bag, determined to settle for some sleep now, maybe he'll unpack tomorrow.

Kurt carefully opens the bathroom door. It's heavy and squeaks annoyingly, and Kurt panics a little when he can't find any lock to the door. There's nothing under the door handle, which he would have expected it to be. He looks around frantically, wondering how he possibly can uphold some privacy with an unlocked door, when he finally sees the small hook on the upper half of the door.

The sweatpants fall to the floor, and are replaced by his pyjamas pants. Then Kurt starts unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He carefully brushes his cuffs, looking at the bandages that are under. It actually feels kind of surreal. He did that. He went so far. And now he's here. Mental house. Asylum. The cuckoo nest. How did that happen to him? Kurt brushes over his goosebumped arms as he takes off his shirt, feeling cold run down his spine. The mirror reveals a pale young boy, dark circles under his red shot eyes, distant with a dull expression. The young boy's lips are sore from chewing, and his hair is askew. He seems so familiar, but it strange to Kurt. Where is he?

Kurt turns around to face away from the mirror before he finishes dressing for night.

Back in the room he was assigned, Kurt places the toilet bag next to his nightstand, before slipping under the white covers of the sterile hospital bed, trying to avoid all the levers and handles that will adjust the bed to positions he never can relax in.

He lies on his back, starring up in the ceiling. It's so far away. It's a really tall room, and Kurt watched mildly amused at the plastered ceiling decorations which clearly haven't been taken into consideration when new rooms were put up in the old building. Three sides of the ceiling are framed with a Greek inspired plaster lining, and the fourth side has got half of a big plaster ornate flower – the other half probably continuing in the neighbour room. Kurt starts counting angles in the lining so far up away from him, while he lies still on his back, hands over the cover, head on pillows and he waits. He waits, wondering what this night might bring.


	2. Night fighter

Thank you for reviews and feedback, both on language and grammar. English is not my first language, so I really appreciate feedback on my bigger errors.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of value.

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The door opens slowly, and the head of an elderly man peaks in. When seeing Kurt sitting upright in the hospital bed, the man enters the room while looking for the light switch. Eventually he finds it, and Kurt blinks painfully at the sudden bright that fills the room. His eyes are sore from crying and rubbing.

"I'm here for the blood samples", the man says, and Kurt guesses the time must be around 7 already. He hadn't bothered checking his phone to see what time it was lately, just waited for the appointment he had gotten a heads up for yesterday.

The man – a nurse, Kurt guesses, or a lab assistant, or something, what does he know about hospital staff anyway? – approaches Kurt's bed with a small brown suitcase in his left hand.

"If you would pull your left arm out of your sleeve, and I will be quickly done and you can go back to sleep", the man explains. Kurt obliges silently, mechanically, and unfolds his arm, careful to not touch his wrist.

Kurt has never been fond of needles, so he lets his head fall down to his right shoulder, starring intently into the wall. He feels the tightening around his left arm as the nurse prepares to take his blood. Kurt tries to force his thoughts into something distracting, but he's too unfocused, can't come up with something to think about quick enough, before he feels the needle penetrate his skin and flesh.

"Ups, I missed the blood vein, it got away, slippery little bugger", the nurse laughs apologetically, before Kurt can feel the tip of the needle sting his skin once more, someplace lower on his underarm.

On a normal day, Kurt would easily have gotten the film reference the nurse slipped out, but this isn't a normal day. In fact, Kurt hasn't had what he would perceive of as normal days for as long as he can remember. On a normal day, Kurt would also have been annoyed by the clumsy nurse/lab assistant/whatever, who clearly isn't doing a satisfactorily job here. But Kurt just doesn't care. He sighs audibly, just staring into the wall, waiting for the man to be done with his needle poking. Kurt seems to be doing a lot of that lately; waiting.

"There, now I got what I need", the hospital employee says while tucking a cotton pad to Kurt's underarm, stopping the small bleeding. "I'll let you go back to sleep, then".

Kurt turns his head to watch the man, while clenching the cotton to his arm. Go back to sleep? Wouldn't that require having something to go back to? Is the man assuming Kurt has actually slept? Can't anyone see how impossible it is to him?

He hasn't slept all night, deliberately kept him self awake. The nightmares are too much; he needed one night without being haunted. He is always tired these days, night time is a cruel enemy, who never lets him get enough rest. He longs for the embrace the darkness can provide, he yearns for being able to shut down his brain and body, he fantasizes about waking up fully rested and energetic, he misses not being scared. But the nightmares are a faithful companion, and can be trusted to show up every single night. So Kurt's only solution is to fight off the night; stay awake, prolong the days, cut into the nights from both ends to make them shorter, hoping for an escape.

His strategy has made him watch a lot of bad TV. Nothing good really runs at late nights and too early mornings. Not that it really matters; Kurt isn't always quite aware of what he's watching. He just lets his eyes absorb the fluttering images, and if his brain stumbles to pick up some impressions, then fine. If not, no worries, at least he's managed to kill some time. But there is no TV in this hospital room, so it's been a rough night convincing his brain and eyes they need to stay alert. Maybe there's a TV in the common's room they had pointed out to him yesterday, Kurt thinks and jumps awkwardly out of bed. His muscles are sore and his body is aching after the tensions needed to sit stiff in bed to stay awake for so long. He scrambles through his bag to find the robe and slippers, before he quietly sneaks out of the room to go TV-hunting.

Kurt drags his feet down the corridor, almost stumbling into the living room. His eyes are fixed on the big TV-screen in the furthest corner, and he nearly falls into the couch in front of it, looking for a remote control. Kurt is so focused on his mission; he actually misses the group of four people sitting in another corner with a coach and comfortable chairs.

"Good morning, Kurt" a chipper male voice calls, and Kurt flinches in his seat, throwing big eyes in the direction of were the voice came from. Four people in regular clothes are apparently trying to solve a puzzle, numerous pieces covering the table in their midst. There's only one man, so Kurt assumes he's the owner of the voices. Kurt examines the stranger, trying to figure him out. He's probably around 30 years old, wearing average blue jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt. He's got glasses, which annoys Kurt, because it makes it a bit more difficult to decipher eyes and looks. The glasses make an obstacle, and they're one more barrier for Kurt to struggle through to be able to categorize the person. Friend or enemy?

The man gets up from his seat before Kurt has finished evaluating the man or respond to his greetings, and Kurt crouches a bit in the coach, not knowing what he's in to now. With only a few, long steps the man is standing in front of Kurt, presenting him his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Kurt. I am Thomas, and will be your chosen contact person this week".

Kurt shakes the hand, replying with a flat voice, "Kurt, nice to meet you", while he repeats to himself what the man has said. So, apparently he will be staying here for a week. Maybe more weeks, this Thomas had explicitly said **this** week.

"I guess you must have a lot of questions", Thomas continues, "and I will of course provide you with as many answers as possible. It was too late before you came yesterday, so your introductory meeting was postponed to today. Breakfast is served here in 20 minutes, so maybe we could have a chat after it, at nine o' clock? I've booked conversation room 2 for us, so we can talk privately before I give you the grand tour of the premises", Thomas says jokingly, before turning towards the two doors beside the TV. "Conversation room 1 and 2 are those two doors", he explains. "Now, maybe you would like to have a quick shower and get dressed before you eat? We like to believe we don't have too many rules here, but pajamas are strictly restricted to night time. We want the residents to be fully clothed in normal daywear during daytime, to make an effort to meet a new day. As you can see, we in the staff aren't wearing uniforms either. You are gonna live her for a while, and it's important for your healing that you can settle down. Therefore regular and normal routines are important to us – and to you. Does that make sense?" Thomas asks.

"Yeah", Kurt mumbles before getting up and heading for the room. His room? He doesn't know what to call it or how to think about it. The room which contains his clothes and the bed he's been provided with? He sighs, before ransacking the bag. As it was his father who packed it, he has no idea what kind of clothes are there. He pulls out a pair of grey sweatpants who lies on top, not knowing if these will be defined as normal daywear, but frankly Kurt doesn't give a damn. What are they gonna do if the pants are wrong? Kick him out? Kurt shakes his head to himself while putting on a green shirt and a black knitted sweater. He throws a grey scarf carelessly around his neck, trying to cover as much skin as possible. He is cold. Always cold, always in need of more layers to prevent his body from shivering or teeth from chattering.

Kurt finds his way back to the living room where Thomas said breakfast would be served. Six-seven people are seated around a longer table, one of them being Thomas. A couple of chairs are vacant, but Kurt decides to choose one of those next to Thomas. If he is his contact person, he wouldn't mind, would he? Kurt doesn't want to disturb anyone else around the table, and with everyone being dressed similarly it's no knowing who works there or who doesn't.

The breakfast actually gives a range of food choices. Kurt had always heard hospital food was poor, so he's a bit surprised to see both cereal, scrambled eggs, bacon, three sorts of bread, pancakes and a big bowl of fruit. Juice, coffee and tea are also placed on the table. Kurt isn't really hungry, as usual, but he grabs an apple and starts cutting it in smaller pieces. Slowly, he chews bite for bite. The apple grows in his mouth, and he really has to struggle to get it down. By the time he has finished the apple, most of the people have disappeared, and Kurt is sitting by the table alone but for Thomas. Kurt pours himself a cup of coffee, adding plenty of both milk and sugar, hoping the caffeine will help him stay fairly awake through this day he has no idea what will bring him. Absentmindedly he scratches the bandages on his wrists, while starring out of the big windows, eyes locked on nothingness.

"Are you ready?" Thomas asks. Kurt shrugs. Does it matter?


	3. Prisoner

**Thank you so much to everyone who's made an alert to be noticed about updates or made this a favorite story - it really touches me!**

**I must remind you, English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know when I do embarrassingly big mistakes language-wise.**

**Disclaimer: I own no fun, aka Glee.**

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Kurt finds himself hunched in the corner of a big couch. The man who had introduced himself as Thomas "the chosen contact person" is situated at the far end, with pen and paper on the table in front of them. Kurt silently absorbs the rest of the room, because it is easier than having any contact with Thomas. The room is quite bland and plain. White walls, a window with some ugly patterned curtains, a small desk with a printer, and in the corner a number of uncomfortable burgundy conference chairs in a stack. No pictures or anything else distracting that can give Kurt an excuse to study the room any deeper.

He sighs, curls his feet up under himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his forehead on the knee caps.

"I know it's a lot to take in at once, and I don't expect you to remember all I say now. If you'd like, you can write down the most important information on this paper, but you can always ask me or one of the others in the staff what the program is", Thomas says.

Kurt rolls his eyes behind shut eye lids. If staff and patients – are they called patients? Residents? Lunatics? – are dressed in similar clothes, how can he tell who is who? He always imagined people at a psychiatric institution would have a certain flare of… craziness… around them. But he's here, and he's kind of normal'ish, isn't he? Or is he just delusional, maybe he's a wacko ready for a straitjacket in proper use, eating pills that make him think everything is as it should? But Kurt isn't crazy, is he? He's just so fucking tired. He's not a lunatic, maniac, a cuckoo case. Not your stereotypical psycho, or at least so he thought. He's just so sick and tired of everything.

Kurt looks up slightly, and oh, Thomas has been speaking all the time and Kurt didn't quite get all the info, did he.

"…so that's good for you to know. Although meals are served at the same time everyday, you'll be given a heads up if you forget. You'll have appointments with your assigned doctor or me, hopefully every day. I'll also let you know when my day here ends, and I'll fill in your contact person for the evening and nights how your day has been, so you can let me know if it's anything specific you want me to give a heads up on. Likewise, I have a meeting with the nightly contact person when I start my day in the morning. We do our best to take care of you here, Kurt," Thomas says, and Kurt is inclined to almost considering believe him by the convincing tone of his voice.

"There are one or two activities each day, and we strongly encourage you to participate in those. What we do vary, but you will be informed in the morning what the plans for this day are. Actually, there's a morning meeting with this kind of information each day after breakfast. The others are having that meeting now, so if you are up for it we could head out and get you introduced to the rest of the house?"

Thomas stands up, looking expectantly at Kurt. It's easier to do as told than to think out any objections, so Kurt sighs lowly and uncurls out of the couch.

Kurt is being lead to the group of couches and chairs he had been sitting in before breakfast. A young redheaded woman pops up from a chair and offers it to Kurt. He gives her a wary look, but she just smiles and says she doesn't mind. Kurt sits down, and shortly after Thomas comes back with two conference chairs from the conversation room, one for him and one for the redhead.

Kurt throws some careful glances around the crowd, trying to get a first impression of what kind of people he is amongst. A quick count reveals there are 12 people, including him. A middle aged woman is holding up a newspaper and talking to the group, and Kurt decides she must be some kind of boss or responsible or whatever with power and last word saying. A girl seems too young to be staff, she seems so petite in her baggy clothes, and has really dark rings under her eyes. Kurt wonders if she has a history of drug abuse or eating disorders, before he takes an inward glance at himself and wonder what people will assume is his reason to be here. Subconsciously he tucks his sleeves longer down his hands.

A young man with an obviously big golden cross around his neck sits on a chair, another person constantly whispering in his ear. The boss doesn't seem to be offended by it, so Kurt certainly isn't going to find energy to be bothered by it either.

The oldest person is a man with silver in his hair. He's sitting next to an Asian young girl who smiles way too much for Kurt's liking. On her other side is a boy around Kurt's age, sitting with his left leg crossing the right, listening attentively to the boss. In the other couch two girls are relaxing, nothing obvious about them, just being caught on Kurt's radar as probably no danger. None of the persons in the room has brought out the shivers down his spine or the cold sweat on his forehead, so judging by first impressions he's in no immediate danger. Luckily, Kurt knows better than to trust people based on first impressions only. But he can sense his shoulders relax a little as he can conclude with relief there are no typical jocks in the room.

"We have a new face here today", the boss-lady says, "so we'll do our round of presentation."

Kurt's heart drops into his stomach. He honestly detests the idea of spilling anything to a bunch of strangers.

"Everybody, please welcome Kurt!" the commander of chief encourages the crowd, and he's met with various greetings, waves, nods and efforts of friendly gazes. Then everybody introduce themselves by their names, but it's too much for Kurt to absorb. It ends up as a cluster of names he can't put on any faces yet. Christy, Manuel, Thomas – ok, Thomas he'll probably manage to nail down, Yosef, Blaine, Melinda, Izabella, Sarah, and weren't there some other names as well? Kurt yawns, feeling exhausted by the information overload. The sleepless night is getting to him.

"Today's activity is physical exercise, and those of you who want to be participating meet by the elevator at 10:30. Manuel and Melinda are responsible for your physics," the woman in charge says. Kurt thinks maybe she had introduced herself as Christy. He remembers Thomas saying something about participation being encouraged, and Kurt takes it as his key to get out of it.

Before Kurt manages to leave the room to crawl back in bed, Thomas stops him.

"As this is your first day, we want to give you time to settle a bit down and breath first, so you have no appointments with the doctor today. I want to have a talk with you before I leave at four o' clock, but otherwise you have no obligations today. Although I encourage you to participate in the activities offered and mingle with people here in the common's room, to help you get going with our rhythms."

Kurt simply nods with heavy eyes, yawns, and turns 180 degrees to find the bed. Hopefully he's so exhausted by now; he can actually get some decent sleep.

* * *

Kurt bolts up to the sound of a terrified scream, feeling his heart beat like a scared wild horse, before he realizes the awful sound had actually escaped his own lips.

Before he has managed to climb out of bed, the door to his room is burst open, and Thomas jumps in.

"Hey, everything OK?"

"Nightmare," Kurt mumbles.

"Lunch is being served in half an hour, so maybe you'd want to join us in the common's room instead of braving some more sleep?" Thomas suggests.

Kurt takes an honest minute to consider the suggestion. He still feels tired, but the bed isn't tempting right now. Even less tempting than sitting in a room filled with strangers. Kurt dives into his bag, picks up the book his father had the foresight to pack from its place on the nightstand back home, and follows after Thomas.

"If you want, there's always fresh black coffee, hot water for tea and cold water for you to help yourself in that corner," Thomas points and explains. "We have no fancy coffee, but there are almost always milk and sugar available. If you run out of anything, let us know and we'll bring more from the kitchen".

Kurt simply nods, before sitting down in the couch. There's a seat next to the boy who paid so firm attention to Christy earlier. He's also reading, so Kurt doesn't feel he's imposing on him by sitting down. He opens his book, pausing to think for a moment what he was reading last time, before he continues to read about Harry who solemnly swears he's up to no good.

"I approve of your impeccable taste in literature," the boy next to Kurt says after a while.

Kurt slowly raises his head, and gives him his best _"bitch please, as if I need __**anyone's**__ approval to read whatever I want to read."_

The boy chuckles, and lets Kurt see the cover of his own book. _Harry Potter E il Prigioniero D'Azkaban._

"You speak English quite well for someone reading Italian," Kurt says with generous sarcasm. The boy laughs heartily, before his eyes darts back to his self acclaimed approved literature. Kurt huffs, and turns to the next page.

Kurt has almost finished his chapter when lunch is announced. His right index finger trails the last lines so he won't get out of rhythm. When the last word is digested, he closes the book and leans over to put it on the table. In the corner of his eye he can see the boy looking at him. Kurt slightly turns his head, watching him carefully, ready to withdraw if needed.

"The first 24 hours I was here I think I got introduced to 15 different names, and it was only a few I could partner with a face after the first days. It's really overwhelming and confusing, so I just want to remind the new kid that I'm the one named Blaine," he says and winks. "Ready for lunch?"


	4. Rules

**Thank you to everyone who is giving me feedback and/or subscribing to this story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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Lunch is overwhelming, to say the least. A table decked for 12, conversations going in all and none directions, so much noise, food being brought to and from to help everybody get what they want. Kurt feels like he's drowning or choking, maybe both. The breakfast had been a silent affair, but apparently everyone's more awake by now. How can they have so much to talk about, when they practically live together and do everything together? And shouldn't people eating be quiet?

Kurt carefully blows into his cup of coffee to prevent it from scolding his lips. He then helps himself to some grapes from the fruit tray conveniently placed next to him. After 15 grapes or so, and the coffee, he feels full, almost nauseous. May he leave the table? What are the rules? Are there any rules? Kurt carefully looks around the table to see what the others do. Unfortunately, everybody's still eating and chatting. Kurt sighs inwardly, poring himself another cup of coffee to have something to hold on to, seeming occupied and not so lost.

Eventually one of the girls gets up, placing her dishes on a trolley, and Kurt doesn't hesitate to follow her example. He quickly grabs his book before darting into the room he was assigned. He lies down in bed, staring at the ceiling, and it is a blessing that his mind for once is utterly blank. It doesn't happen often, but in this precious moment he's actually capable of shutting down his brain, and just be. It's a welcomed escape not having to worry, discuss with him self, pence, remember, struggle, grieve, or morn.

Not for long, though, because Kurt is interrupted by a firm knock on the door, and Thomas pops in.

"Hey, how are you doing? A nurse is here to see to your bandages, is this a bad time?"

Kurt shakes his head, and sits up in the bed. A man in white uniform comes in, introduces himself as Pete, and pulls the chair closer to the bed.

"Would you mind showing me your wrists?"

Kurt obediently obliges, while staring into the wall. Ironically he's never been fond of blood and damages. That in itself is a testament to how badly he wanted to get away, he thinks to himself.

"Everything's healing nicely, the wounds show no signs of infections, but I changed your bandages," nurse Pete says, before wishing Kurt a pleasant afternoon and leaving.

"Would you like to join us in the common's room?" Thomas asks. Kurt just looks at him. Not really, he thinks to himself. "People are playing games, reading newspapers, chatting, just hanging. But it's nice to be among people, and I'm sure we can find something you enjoy doing," Thomas continues. Again it is easier to do as told than find any energy to protest, so Kurt grabs his book and follows after.

"The TV is off limits until after dinner, but otherwise you are free to use whatever we have here to entertain yourself. We also have access to a crafts room, so if you like to knit, embroider, draw or anything artsy, we can pick up equipment there for you," Thomas explains.

"Maybe later," Kurt offers, feeling the need to not come off as rude, and provide more than one word-sentences now and then. "I like this book," he continues, lifting his hand slightly and heading for the couch.

"Kurt, right?" asks the smiley-exploding Asian girl, sitting across over Kurt. "I'm Sarah, and I'm the one who's been here the longest, so I'm kind of the one everybody relies on and can ask about anything, 'cause I just know anything and everything here after all my stays," she chatters on in an impressive speed, and Kurt is used to his Glee-girls for goodness sake. "I love to knit, do you knit? I am working on a sweater, I was actually seven when I finished my first sweater, so there's really no challenge to it, but it's nice to do things that doesn't require any effort, you know. I love my knitted sweaters, and I always make matching scarves and mittens, but I tell you, that I can do in my sleep!" she laughs eagerly, showing all her equipment and some yarn in a hideous colour. "Some people actually need to focus when they knit, I'm so glad it's all so natural to me, I can just talk and knit and watch TV and read the newspaper, and isn't this just _great_?" she squeals.

"I bet it is," Kurt mumbles, before demonstratively lifting his book and open it to the last page he read before lunch. Next to him he can hear someone chuckle softly, almost not audibly. Kurt peaks from the corner of his eye, and it's the boy who had introduced himself as Blaine earlier. Kurt turns his head slightly to double check, and yes, the boy is actually working with a math book.

"Bored, much?" It slips out of Kurt's lips before he can prevent it. Blushing he stars into his own book, trying to act as if he didn't say those two words. At the loss of any response, he carefully turns his head slightly towards the boy, who is smiling amused at him.

"Unfortunately, this isn't by choice. The cruel duty of homework," he adds, and winks to Kurt.

He winks to Kurt! Kurt feels the embarrassment blush even more radiant in his face, and something in his stomach is revolting and making him feel kind of nauseous, he thinks.

A woman enters the room in boots and her coat, with a big scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Who wants to go out for a walk today? The destination can be the store some block away for those who need to stack up on their candy, magazines and toiletries," the woman says and some people get to their feet.

"That's Melinda," someone whispers in Kurt's ear, and oh yes, that's right; Blaine remembered how it was to be confused with all the names and faces. "Most of us aren't allowed to go out alone, so they do these daily walks with various destinations, so that we can have some fresh air and do some basic errands. Some times we go to a bakery to enjoy good coffee, some times we walk in the park, sometimes we just stand outside to let the smoker's have their nicotine fix, and sometimes there is basic shopping like this one. Feel free to offer the staff or your contact person suggestions if you have any needs," Blaine explains. Kurt smiles gratefully at him. He's actually quite dizzy and confused by all the rules and practises in this place, and he's learning something new by the hour.

Not for long, a small group with their coats, money and candy-lust eyes on heads out.

After a while, Blaine gets up and disappears with his math books. Kurt looks up from his own book, and scans the room. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, which means Kurt is currently in a room with nothing but strangers. He feels lost and afraid. Sensing how his body is shaking and the room starts to twirl; he gets up and rushes for "his" room. Sighing deeply, he embraces the pillows and quickly disappears into darkness.

* * *

"Kurt, you need to wake up. Kurt, I need to talk to you!" Someone's gently, but firmly, shaking Kurt, and it's with pain he finally manages to open his sore and tired eyes.

"Sorry to wake you up, but I have to finish my part of your report for those working evening and night before I leave, so I wanted to ask you some questions, if that's OK," Thomas says.

Kurt nods and sits up.

"How has your day been?"

Kurt takes time to find the right answer. Several words tumble around in his brain, before he settles for one. "Overwhelming."

"That's understandable. Is it anything we can do to make it easier for you?"

Kurt contemplates that question for a while too, before he simply shakes his head.

"Is it anything you think the next shift needs to know from this day? I'll write in the report you had a nightmare during your nap, and didn't sleep well this night, so they can keep an eye on you and make sure you get the rest you need. Anything else you'd like to add? Any wishes for tomorrow?"

"No, I think that covers the highlights," Kurt huffs, making Thomas laugh softly.

"OK, so I've got what I need to finish the report. Dinner is ready in 15 minutes, if you want to freshen up a bit. See you at the table, and after food I'm leaving."

Kurt just nods, and heads for the bathroom with his toiletries.

* * *

After dinner, Margaret greets Kurt, and he vaguely remembers her from the night before. She reminds him she's his contact person until Thomas is back next morning.

Most people head for the couches to fight friendly over the TV-remote. A majority makes sure _The Bachelor_ is the entertainment for the next hour, but Kurt can't be bothered by that show, and retrieves from the room. He is sick of his own room, but he doesn't want to sit by himself in a corner away from the TV like an outcast either. Kurt is thinking about taking another shower and go through his skin care regime, when he remembers about the computer in the conversation room, and how Thomas had said they were free to use it. Kurt doesn't think he can cope with any phone calls, and has turned it off and put it in the bottom of his bag. But he thinks it would be nice to compose a quick e-mail to his father, to let him know how he's doing. If only he knew the answer to that question…


	5. Five in row

**AN: Thank you to those who are subscribing to the story and reading it, I hope you still enjoy it in all it's sadness and heavyness.**

**Disclaimer: I don not own Glee or any other fun.**

* * *

"He's slept all night through, no nightmares as far as we know," Margaret explains during morning staff meeting. "Kurt went to bed quite early, but no one can blame him for being tired and exhausted."

"Did he interact with anybody during the evening?" Thomas asks. "He was quiet during the entire day, not talking much; only offered a couple of words and never full sentences. I didn't see him talk to anybody but me, and only when approached directly."

"I saw him talk a bit to Blaine. Or at least Blaine talked and he listened," Melinda offers.

"OK, we'll all keep an extra eye on Kurt today," Christy concludes. "It isn't easy to come here, and everyone comes with luggage. Part of the treatment is interacting with people, getting into a rhythm during the day, and of course the therapy and medication when needed. I trust you all know the balance between a gentle push to get them going and respecting the need to be alone. So, speaking of Blaine, I see he has started doing some of his homework, Matthew?"

"Yes, he said he felt more energetic and able to focus, so he did some school work yesterday."

"Excellent," Christy says, smiling sincerely. "Anyone else has anything to report before breakfast?"

* * *

"Good morning, everybody!" Christy greets the gang gathered in the couches and chairs. "Today is Thursday, November 20th."

Kurt finds the statement odd, but come to think about it, he is a bit dazzled about which day it is. Every day is identical, and all days seem to last forever, so he's no longer quite sure how long he's been here. But if it is Thursday, that means two nights, not more, and already so long.

Christy starts announcing the various appointments during the day, and Kurt makes a mental note that he's seeing a doctor Whimchester at noon.

"At 10:30 you are having arts and crafts-group; meet Matthew by the elevator. And at 15:00 we are meeting here for a group sessions with me. Today's theme will be _love_, so you can think during the day if it's anything you would like to say on that topic."

* * *

Just before half past ten Thomas had knocked on Kurt's door, and asked if he'd be joining them for the arts and crafts-session. Of course Kurt hadn't planed on doing so, but being confronted directly about it, he got the impression he was kind of told to participate. So he finds himself in a jammed elevator, with nine people headed to the top floor.

The group spreads out in the hobby room, and there are endless possibilities to make something. Paint, draw, sculpt in clay, make candles, make jewellery, knit, sew – everything a creative heart might desire.

The problem is, Kurt doesn't have an ounce of creativity in his heart nor soul. The fashionista, who so often would design his own outfits, or the interior decorator, both of them were sleeping in Kurt now. He feels the emptiness, it used to be his spirit, and it has left a big, aching void. But he's just too tired, and has no drive or energy to even _try_. He doesn't know where to begin; he's not good enough anyway.

Kurt wanders aimlessly around in the room, studying the various equipments, and sensing the sadness creeping more and more into him. He knows so well how he used to be, and he misses himself.

"Forgot your inspiration today?" a soft voice Kurt is beginning to recognize among the people on his floor, asks.

"I can't force it out," he simply states, looking at Blaine.

"Me neither. Want to try a mind-dumbing activity instead?"

"I'm intrigued. Do tell." Kurt tilts his head, curiosity awoken, and he looks almost expectantly at Blaine.

"Come here," he smiles and leads way to the end of the long table the others are scattered around. From a book shelf he pulls out a notepad and two pens. The notepad turns out to be stocked with math papers.

"Are you acquainted with _five in row_?"

"Dibs on circles," Kurt replies with a wicked grin.

The two boys don't talk much, but they are highly dedicated to winning, and soon the paper sheets are filled with circles and X's. So far none of them have managed to trick down five in row of their designated marks, and they are silent together, concentrating and plotting.

Thomas is observing the two boys competitive and focused game. Although the two of them don't share many words, Thomas can still see a certain communication through their laughter, eyes, and non-verbal outbursts when a potential win is ruined by the other. He is glad to see Kurt seemingly more settled down and relaxed today than yesterday, and hopes he is ready to handle the treatment and help helping himself. Thomas knows he unfortunately has to break them up soon, to get Kurt to their floor in time for his session with doctor Whimchester.

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt, but I need to bring Kurt to his appointment now."

"Oh," Blaine says and looks up. "Well, he is unbeatable, so we might as well call it even."

Kurt just rolls his eyes, but gives him a small smile.

The elevator ride is silent, until they reach their own floor.

"Do you need to freshen up or anything before the appointment?" Thomas asks.

"No, but I'd like to help myself to a cup of coffee," Kurt replies.

"That's OK. Just sit and wait in the couches, and doctor Whimchester will find you. I need to go to our office and get some papers, but I will come back and join you for the session."

Kurt is glad to hear. Thomas seems like a really cool, nice guy, and he's glad he's one of his contact persons. It's nice to have a friendly face among all the strangers, and Kurt thinks he'll be kind of a support. He doesn't know what this session will be about, what they are going to do with him, who this doctor is. Kurt feels afraid, he doesn't like the unknown, and he needs to be in control. Kurt's grip around the coffee cup tightens, and he sighs. How did this happen? Mindlessly he scratches his wrists; they are itching.

Kurt shoots a quick glance at the big clock on the wall, and sees it is a minute to noon. At the same time, Thomas and another man enters the room.

"You must be Kurt," the man says and offers his right hand. "I am doctor Whimchester."

Kurt shakes hands with the doctor. "Yes, I am, nice to meet you." Kurt studies his face and body language, keeping as much distance as possible even while hand shaking. Control, his mind whispers to himself. Don't trust him just because he has a degree. Protect your emotions. Kurt takes another glance at the doctor. A man, around 50, a well trimmed grey beard, slightly bald, glasses, warm eyes, and a friendly smile. Could be worse, can still be worse.

"Let's go into the conversation room," Thomas says and leads the three of them into the room.

Kurt finds the place he took last time he was in the room; in the far end of the big coach. He crosses his legs, hands resting on his left knee, back stiff, and his body hesitant. He has never had anything to do with psychiatry, and doesn't know what to expect. Will he be told to lie down on a coach to talk about his pre-birth memories? Will they drug him immediately? Will he be hypnotized? Or will they just talk and talk about how stupid he was to get himself landed here?

"How are you, Kurt?" the doctor asks. Kurt is taken aback, he didn't expect that. He thinks for a moment. All his life he's shaped himself to not show weakness, to be in control, and to survive. Is he still able to survive, after all that has happened? Where is the border between honesty and lies, and what is is expected of him?

"I don't know," he settles for as answer.

"You told Thomas yesterday you felt overwhelmed. Is that still present?" the doctor asks.

"That, and much more."

"That is understandable. Is it anything I can do to make you feel less overwhelmed? Do you have any questions about the rhythms and routines here?"

Kurt takes his time to think about this. He thinks about what has happened so far, all the information he's been given, the things he has experienced, the people surrounding him.

"I think I need to complete the first spin on this rollercoaster before I can begin to grasp some of what's actually happening."

"Fair enough. We'll probably have daily appointments and you can always – and I mean _always_ – ask one of your contact persons; Thomas here or Margaret later on. And if they by chance aren't available, all of the staff is here for you, not only your contact persons."

"Thank you, I'm glad to know," Kurt answers silently.

"Did you have anymore nightmares last night, or did you sleep well?"

"I've slept better, but at least I didn't have any nightmares," Kurt answers honestly.

"Improvement is always good. Are you ready to talk about what lead to your stay here? You didn't explain anything to the paramedics."

Kurt swallows, and stars out of the window. Of course he knew it would happen. Of course they would wonder and demand answers.

"We're not going to pressure you if you're not ready. To heal you must be able to help yourself, and we'll do it at the pace that suits you. But I want you to know I've talked with your father; they send all their love, by the way, both he, Carole and Finn."

Kurt's eyes are suddenly filled with tears, which slowly begins their slope down his chin. Thomas pulls out a new packet of paper handkerchiefs from his pocket, and silently places it on the table in front of Kurt.

"He told me you're gay, and it has been giving you a hard time at school."

Kurt simply nods, and opens the packet, carefully wiping away the tears. New tears wet his face again.

"Is that what lead to your suicide attempt?"

More tears are running down his cheeks, and he is sobbing. His shoulders are shaking and he curls together in the couch, feet tucked in under him.

Neither the doctor nor Thomas are saying anything, but patiently waiting for Kurt to calm down.

He straightens up, dabs away some more tears with the paper, and takes a deep breath.

"It's just too much…" he whispers with hoarse voice. "I-I just couldn't take it anymore, I'm not… strong enough."

"It's not a sign of weakness when bullying takes an impact on you," the doctor says. "It's simply human. Would you mind telling us what they did to you?"

Kurt coughs, trying to make his voice clear again.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Thomas asks, and is almost out of the door before Kurt can nod in agreement. The doctor and he are both silent while they wait; Kurt contemplating how to articulate the torment from school – actions he so far never has put in words. He thought he would be strong and control his emotions, but the mention of his father just cracked him wide open, and he knows he'll be telling the doctor more than he planned to.

Thomas quickly returns with a glass of water and a jug filled to the brim, and Kurt eagerly gulps down a glass, feeling how the cool liquid clears his throat.

"I've been bullied for so many years," he says with a silent voice, but not whispering. "They are tossing me into dumpsters. I'm shoved into lockers. They trip me in the hallways. They call me names. They slushy me and ruin my clothes. They give me looks, shout slurs after me. I handled it for a while, but then…"

Silence. Kurt takes a handkerchief to dry off new tears.

"But then what?" doctor Whimchester asks.

Kurt can't look him in the eyes anymore, and talks into his hands.

"Then it became too much" he sobs, body shaking heavily and arms clenching around his knees as he curls himself even tighter together in his corner of the couch.

There's silence again as the doctor waits him out.

"We'll end our conversation for today here," he eventually says. "I see how upsetting this is for you, and we can continue tomorrow." He can see Kurt's head nod somewhat more than the rest of his trembling body.

"Lunch is ready in twenty minutes, but do you want to lie down for a bit in your room?" Thomas offers, and Kurt gets up immediately, almost running to his bed. Holding the pillow tightly into his body, he lets all his emotions go, and cries his heart out. The pillow is quickly soaked, and Kurt throws it to the floor, embracing the covers instead.

Eventually someone knocks on his door, and Thomas enters after Kurt refuses to answer.

"I know that was though on you, but lunch is being served and the meals are mandatory. Would you please join us?"

"I'm not hungry," Kurt claims, voice muffled by the covers he's still clutching to.

"You need food and energy, and you shouldn't be alone when you're as upset as you are now. Come join us for lunch, and afterwards we can find some board games, or maybe you'll finally get five in a row before Blaine can? Go clean up your face in the bathroom, and I'll wait for you here, OK?"

Kurt slowly climbs out of his bed, and brings his toiletries to the bathroom in the end of the hallway. He brushes his teeth and splashes cold water around his eyes, but they are still red rimmed and swollen. He sighs unhappy, before returning to Thomas and joining him for the lunch table.


	6. Loved

AN: I'm sorry this chapter is a bit short, but it was difficult to write, and I didn't want it to end in any other way.

Thank you to all of you for reading, and subscribing to updates.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

There's only one free chair around the lunch table, and Kurt carefully slides into the seat. It positions him between Sarah with oral diarrhea and Blaine.

"Hello Kurt, did you have fun at the arts and crafts-group? I just _love_ those hours where I can sit and draw out new patterns for sweaters and scarves, testing colour combination and planning my next knitting project. It's just so _therapeutically_ for me; you really should try, Kurt, I wouldn't mind teach you _at all_. Tell me about yourself, so I can capture your aura better and the pattern your aura would suit best, and maybe if…"

"Not now!" Kurt bites her off with his sharpest voice, immediately regretting it as he sees her shocked expression. "I'm sorry, but please, not now," he adds silently.

Sarah looks a bit taken aback, and turns away to talk with her other neighbor. Kurt can feel the eyes of _his_ other neighbor boring into his skin, and tilts his head up to look at Blaine with eyes he knows are red, puffed and brimmed with a few new tears. Embarrassed, he looks away, willing his empty plate to become a black hole he can dive into. Kurt sighs, louder than expected. A hand softly touches his shoulder, squeezes it gently, a thumb rubbing carefully, and it's all Kurt can take to not cry in front of Blaine and all the other around the table. He misses the warmth as the hand disappears, and God, he can't remember the last time anyone not obliged by blood bonds gave him so much positive attention or initiated a caress like that. Kurt wants to give Blaine a smile, no matter how strangled, to show his appreciation, but instead he keeps his eyes locked on the plate, fighting back the tears.

After lunch, Kurt apologizes profoundly to Sarah once again, telling he has a rough day and isn't doing so swell on human interactions at the moment. She accepts the apology, but to make sure there are no hard feelings Kurt joins in for a round of scrabble. After all they have to more or less live together, so he doesn't want to be the cause of any awkwardness.

In the middle of the game, Thomas interrupts. The nurse is back to check on the wrists and change Kurt's bandages, and they go into his room for privacy. Kurt doesn't go back into the common room when the nurse is done though, he feels like lying down in bed for a while.

He's almost fallen asleep when Thomas knocks on the door to inform him it's five minutes until group session.

* * *

"In the group sessions we discuss a theme or an emotion, to identify strategies and positive resources you can use to help you heal," Christy introduces. Kurt nods for himself at the explanation, understanding a bit more what these group sessions are for.

"As I said this morning, today's emotion is _love_. It may seem like a very obvious positive resource, but let's work together to put words on how and why love is important. Anyone?"

The room is silent. Some staring at their laps, some gazing out of the windows, and some studying the floor.

"How can love be important?" Christy asks.

"Because even though I struggle, there's always someone loving me and making things feel better," a girl answers after a while, Kurt has never caught her name.

"Yeah, being loved means not being alone," Sarah joins in.

Kurt huffs inwardly. He's always been alone, no one's ever stud up for him or helped him when he's been bullied or attacked at school. No one's ever defended him, comforted him, given him a helping hand or listened to his worries.

"Being loved is being seen for who you are, and that is good enough," the skinny girl in baggy clothes says.

Kurt feels invisible. Who has ever seen him? How can all those things happen at school if anyone actually sees it? A lump grows in his throat.

"Being loved makes me happy," pipes in the young man with the golden cross around his neck, in broken English.

Kurt knows he's utterly _un_happy. His eyes are stinging.

"Being loved makes me feel important," a voice calls.

Kurt feels worthless. He blinks several times, swallows heavily.

"To love someone is a great gift," Blaine interjects. "I think that's my meaning of life: To be able to love someone, make their life better, always aiming to be a better person who loves that someone special even stronger. To be loved back would be perfect, but in my opinion to love someone gives me adrenaline and a high, and a goal to aim for. I would be honored to be allowed to love someone as strongly and sincerely as I know I can do."

Kurt just stars at Blaine. _Wow… Have love, get love, take love, claim love – but he wants to simply offer love. Amazing, how unselfish of him. But I know no one will ever let me love them. I'm too broken and damaged to be able to love or be loved, anyway._

"You make a noble point, Blaine, but don't forget you and everybody deserve to be loved back as well," Christy says and winks, but it's clear that she's being serious.

"I won't forget, and I don't disagree. But I think it's important to let love be something that goes both ways – both giving and earning. I'm convinced that to love, makes it even stronger and better to be loved back as well. To love is honest and noble, and encourages me to see the best in the other."

Some of the girls start fanning themselves with their hands, and Kurt feels upset, it's as if they are ridiculing what Blaine said.

"I don't know what I would do if I wasn't loved. It's my rock I cling to in life. Without love, I wouldn't have any reason to live," the girl who originally answered first sighs.

It's as if the words are accusing Kurt. Nobody loves him, nobody wants him, he has no reason to live – and he's such a failure he didn't even manage to end his life. Kurt chokes on his own breath, and immediately his tears flow free. He's standing up from the couch before he knows it, sobbing and shaking.

* * *

Blaine watches the hunched crying body run out of the room, and his heart breaks for him. Although the various baggage among the patients, problems and treatments are private and by unspoken agreement not voiced among them, but Blaine's pretty certain about Kurt's background and journey to their floor.

The wrists are an obvious telltale. Blaine has observed how Kurt fickle with his sleeves, daring them to be longer. He's seen how he carefully and almost unconsciously will slide his index fingers up the sleeve to scratch – healing wounds do itch, he knows that. Even though he's concerned about the sleeves, he's also constantly wearing pulse warmers. Blaine has also noticed how Kurt's had a nurse over both yesterday and today, and that rarely happens unless someone needs something extra taken care of in the physical department.

What Blaine has paid the most attention to, though, is Kurt's body language and eyes.

It's as if he's trying to minimize the space he needs, making himself smaller, apologetically sitting down in the couch, on a chair, or walking in the hallway. He walks close to the walls, as if they will mask him invisible. Blaine has seen how he flinches if someone comes to close, and sudden noises make him jump.

His eyes, though, makes Blaine shiver with cold. They can be so lifeless. Kurt has smiled a couple of times, but it never ever reaches his eyes. Blaine's caught Kurt staring out in the air, but his eyes seems so blind and unfocused; as if they aren't able to actually see anything, react to light or movement. At other times they are so expressive it makes Blaine want to cry. It's when he can see the obvious _hurt_ Kurt's carrying with him. Blaine has no trouble reading those eyes: Scared, hurt, without hope, resignation, self-hate, worthlessness, fear, loneliness, isolation.

Yeah, Blaine can identify the eyes of someone who's been bullied, and been bullied badly. He knows the eyes of someone who's been pushed beyond the limits. He's seen those kind of eyes on several occasions in the mirror.


	7. Le Petit Prince

**AN: Thank you for still reading this!**

**Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.**

* * *

A chubby index finger caresses his cheek. As the soft finger pad slowly runs down his cheek, the sharp nail – almost like a claw – equally slowly penetrates his skin, making blood shed. A hand holds him still by the throat, body leaning heavily into him, a face so close he can smell the breath, drops of spit landing on his face as the voice hisses.

_I will kill you._

A burn on his lips, an unwanted pressure. Then he is showed into lockers. The lockers open up and swallow him whole, and he's falling, falling, falling backwards. Landing in a dumpster, garbage enveloping him, choking him as more garbage is being poured into the container. Laughter, not the kind one. A hand is searching for his hand, grateful for the help, he is lifted out of the dumpster. He is being offered help to get cleaned up. A hose is being directed at him. The ice cold hits him like a salt whip on sore skin. Red, blue, green, purple slushies drowns him, making him fall, landing in the hallways, head smacked into lockers until he is dizzy and nauseous. Someone leaning over him, lips against his lips. A breathy voice.

_I will fucking kill you, you worthless faggot!_

Then Kurt screams. He's tossing and trashing in bed, feet wrapped and trapped in covers, pillows thrown to the floor in his fight.

"Ssshh Kurt, it's OK, you have to wake up, you are having a nightmare."

Two hands on his shoulders are holding him still, making it difficult to move. Kurt tries to fight them off, tries to escape, he screams again. The hands disappear from his shoulders, but reappears by his hands. They hold him gently, barely touching, thumbs softly brushing on the heel of his hands.

"Kurt, it's Margaret, you are safe, wake up, look at me."

Kurt's eyes open wide. He's panting, quickly examining the room in its semidarkness, body curling up and crawling to a corner of the bed. Sweat dripping, heart beating fast, fast, fast, reminding him he's still alive.

"There you go, Kurt, you are here, still at the hospital and safe."

Kurt's eyes stop their manic wandering, and his gaze settles on the friendly face of his evening contact person. His breath shakes, he exhales slowly, trying to control the oxygen flow.

"Come on, it's late at night, but you've been in bed for several hours. Come with me to the common's room and relax there, and maybe the bed will be more inviting and friendly eventually."

Kurt nods simply, struggling to get out of bed. His legs are trembling, but he manages to put on his slippers. A hoodie is quickly draped over his torso, before he goes to the bathroom. The mirror reveals his red rimmed, moist eyes. He didn't even know he'd been crying. His skin is pale. Paler than ever, and he has dark, puffy rings under his blank, wide eyes. He splashes cold water in his face, not expecting it to help any, but still hoping for nighttime miracles.

Margaret is waiting for him, and gently escorts him to the common's room, a hand resting softly on his back as they walk down the corridor.

"Do you want me to find you some food? You slept through both dinner and supper."

Kurt politely declines, but his stomach grumbles and betrays him.

"You go sit down, and I'll get something for you from the kitchen." She smiles encouragingly, and gently pushes him towards the couches. Kurt quickly glances at the big clock on the wall; it's almost half past three. He's surprised to see someone else sitting in the couch. It's not someone from the staff. It's Blaine, reading. Kurt sits down in the couch across the one he's sitting in.

Blaine looks up from his book and smiles at him, but Kurt notices his eyes are heavy and tired. Kurt smiles back, giving a good guess his eyes may look much like Blaine's. He doesn't know what to say, but keep locking eyes with the other boy. He's not saying anything either. He has beautiful eyes, Kurt suddenly notices. The color is so rich, and even though the eyes look sad and lost now, Kurt is convinced they are beautiful when Blaine smiles. The sound of rattling kitchen wear makes them snap their eyes to themselves, and then looking in the direction of the noise. It's Margaret entering the room with a trolley. She hands each boy a plate with grilled cheese sandwiches, and has made hot chocolate for all three of them.

"I have to sit out in the corridor in case someone in the rooms needs me, but you know were to find me if you want more food or anything else," she says before taking one of the three mugs and leaving.

Kurt realizes he actually was kind of hungry, and manages to eat half of the sandwich before he gets nauseous. He clings to the mug, though, needing the heat it gives off, feeling cold both inside and outside. From the corner of his eye he watches Blaine eat. He is obviously hungrier than Kurt, and has soon finished his sandwich. He looks up before Kurt can look down, and their eyes meet again. For an eternity, nothing else but them exists. Kurt feels a shiver down his spine, it must be the cold, he thinks to himself. And the stomach didn't appreciate the sandwich, the way it's tumbling around. _It's impolite to stare_, Kurt scolds himself, closing his eyelids and forcing his eyes to look in another direction before he opens them again. His eyes lands on the book on the table, resting there while Blaine ate.

"Wh-what are you reading?" His scrunchy voice is crashing into the silence.

"_Le Petit Prince_.

"In original language? I'm impressed."

"You shouldn't be; it's for homework. But if it's any consolation, I did pick the novel myself, and I'm really enjoying it."

"I approve of your impeccable taste in literature," Kurt says, mirroring Blaine's statement from earlier.

It takes Blaine two seconds to remember, before he cracks up in laughter.

"So why are you doing homework at these hours?"

"I couldn't sleep," Blaine shrugs, clearly not wanting to say more about that topic. "I'm lagging behind from school when I'm here, so I thought I'd just as well do homework as my brain is awake and ignoring the clock."

"And what is your particular assignment?"

"Read the book, write a summary I'll e-mail my teacher, and when I get back at school I must give an oral presentation on an optional topic as long as it's connected to the book."

"Sounds like fun!" Kurt replies, slightly eager in voice.

"You seem sincere."

"I am. French is my favorite class, and I'd love to get more advanced and exciting tasks like that."

"Are you any good?

"Sometimes I have to correct the teacher," Kurt says honestly.

"Oh…" Blaine swallows, then smiles slightly. "Would you mind helping me? I understand what I read, and I have a pretty decent vocabulary on my own when I work on the summary. But I don't feel confident with my pronunciation, as I don't get to read it aloud, and I don't have any to correct me when I say it wrong."

Kurt is startled, and just looks at Blaine, head tilted, forehead wrinkled in amazement.

"You want _me_ to help you?"

"Well, yes, of course, why wouldn't I? I'd be stupid not to grab this possibility. If you want to, I mean. I'll of course make it up for you. Would you accept coffee as payment for time being?"

"Listening to a wonderful classic read in my favorite language _and_ drinking good coffee? I'd be stupid not to grab this possibility," Kurt parries, and in a bold moment he winks to Blaine with his right eye. He doesn't miss the smile on Blaine's face, and how it makes his eyes twinkle. He was right; Blaine's eyes are beautiful.

"It's a couple of years since I read the book last, so I don't remember it word for word."

"Come sit here and read over my shoulder, so you can see if I pronounce it correctly," Blaine offers.

Kurt gets up, crosses the floor and curls up in the far end of the couch. Blaine scoots closer, sitting so close their thighs almost touch. He lies down the book over Kurt's right thigh and Blaine's left thigh. Blaine opens the book, and starts reading.

A couple of times Kurt has to stop him to make him pronounce a word more clearly, teasing him lightly for swallowing a particularly difficult word and rushing to the rest of the sentence to get past it, and a couple of words Blaine has no clue how to approach. But for the most of the time, Kurt sits back, listening to his soft voice fairly easily painting a French bubble for Kurt to enjoy.

Blaine halts for a moment, making Kurt sit up straight and look at him, wondering what sentence gave him trouble. Blaine locks eyes with Kurt, and without blinking or paying the book any attention, he speaks perfectly.

"On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux."*

Kurt's breathe hitches, and he must force himself to look away from Blaine, his eyes too intense and too strong to handle. Blaine continues reading the book out loud, and Kurt leans back into the couch, silently and slowly exhaling his breath.

Blaine folds the book when the last sentence is uttered. He looks at the boy sitting beside him, sleeping. He must be uncomfortable; sitting lurched with his head hanging. Blaine gently lies his arm behind his neck, and carefully leans the boy closer to him, letting him rest his head on his chest. The boy moves slightly, nuzzling closer into the embrace.

"Sweet dreams, Kurt," Blaine whispers. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

* **_One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye._**


	8. Mismatched

**AN: There will be some time before the next update, as I won't have any time for writing the next two weeks - but I hope this longer chapter may make up for some of the wait.**

**Thank you to all of you for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Kurt's confused.

He'd been awoken by Margaret from his sleep in Blaine's embrace after about an hour. She had sent both boys to their respective beds to continue their sleep there. Kurt couldn't say he had slept _well_, but at least he hadn't had any more nightmares.

He had been lying awake for quite some time before dozing off again, contemplating the odd fact that he had awoken in Blaine's embrace. He wasn't even sure how he'd managed to end up in such a position. It just doesn't make any sense. Of course he had felt embarrassed, discovering he had been nuzzled into Blaine. But what's really his concern and worry is the tangible aspect, because Kurt just doesn't do such things anymore. After one too many locker shove, dumpster tossing, hateful glares, slurs or simple tripping in the hallways, Kurt had learned to avoid any kind of body contact. It was too risky, you never knew who would appreciate it, who would accept it, or who would down right hate it. Kurt had been let down so many times, and had finally decided it was easier to just not trust anybody, keep his guard up, maintain his invisibility and make an effort to not bother anyone, not being noticed. He had even withdrawn from his Glee friends, the girls included. Not that it had worked particularly well; the tormenting had anything but stopped. But still he had made an effort. Until now, when he finds himself sleeping wrapped around some stranger, more or less.

Kurt's screwed.

This is bound to give consequences. What he did was unforgiveable, for him and most certainly for Blaine as well. Hopefully Kurt is protected here and the reactions won't be too harsh.

Kurt is still confused, 'cause during breakfast Blaine had smiled to him and asked if he'd slept well. Kurt had apologized profoundly, but been abruptly stopped in his rambling, and been told there was nothing to apologize for.

During the morning meeting, Kurt had gotten to know that their daily activity for this and every Friday was kitchen, where they would make something nice to snack on during the evening. Kurt had lit up, 'cause cooking and baking was something he still enjoyed. The disappointment was equally strong when he also learned that he had an appointment with Dr. Whimchester starting at the same time as they would be headed for the kitchen. So now he finds himself once again sitting in the far end of the soon familiar couch in the conversation room, the doctor and Thomas with him in the room.

"How are you feeling, Kurt?"

Kurt takes his time to thoroughly ponder on the question. Were there any easy answers to it?

"Less overwhelmed," he finally settles for.

"Are you still having suicidal thoughts? Are you planning any new attempts?"

"No," Kurt answers, quickly but sternly. "I don't necessarily wish to die. I just don't want to live either. I'm… I'm so fucking tired of it all, and I just don't want to be here," he says, spreading his arms in front of him, hoping they understand he's talking about a bigger "here" than the hospital.

"We understand, and you are here to get help facing everything, finding back to a stronger desire to live your life. I understand yesterday was quite rough on you," Whimchester say, and Kurt can only nod, thinking about their heart wrecking group session about love, his nightmares and his idiotic sleep sprawled on Blaine.

"Let's start with the easiest one; your nightmares. Are you up for telling a bit about them; what happens in your nightmares?"

"They change, they aren't exactly the same each time," Kurt begins silently. "But it's always something linked to the bullying. Either it is something that actually happened, or my fantasy takes it further and creates new scenarios with the usual tormentors," Kurt whispers, a single tear falling down his cheek.

"Thank you for telling us, Kurt, we can only guess how difficult it is to think about it when awake as well," Whimchester says, looking quickly over at Thomas to show they both appreciate Kurt opening up to them.

"I can see you are exhausted, and you need to be rested to be able to heal. I would like to give you a break from your nightmares. You will probably have to deal with them later on; it's your mind digesting what has happened, and probably also giving pictures to your fears and emotions. But I want you to be stronger before you face those demons, and for you to be strong you need sleep. I will therefore recommend you starting on sleeping pills for a while. They will make you sleep deeper, and without dreams. How does that sound?"

Kurt thinks about it. He's no big fan of filling his body with medications and chemicals, and fears it will make him loose somewhat control. But he is exhausted from all the bad sleep, so maybe it's worth a try.

"Fine."

"Good. I'll put you on the medication list, and Margaret will give you your pill every night. Do you want to talk about the group session yesterday? You ended up leaving before they were dismissed."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be; it's not a problem. Everyone has their issues and limits. What pushed your limits yesterday?"

Kurt stares at his hands, fingers fickling with the hem of the pulse warmers, plucking on a loose tread. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Inhales, exhales. Once more.

"It hurt…" he says calmly. "…to be reminded how unloved and worthless I am. I should be used to it, but…" New tears run down his cheeks.

"The bullies make you feel unloved and worthless?"

Kurt simply nods, once.

"How would you feel about a visit from your father?"

Kurt's head snaps up from his gaze at his lap.

"What?"

"If you want, he'll come visiting your afterwards, while the others have physical activities. Is that OK?"

Kurt nods again, three times.

"Good. I know you e-mailed him, and I know he hasn't answered, and that is by my restriction. I wanted you to be a bit more settled down and tuned in with the rhythm here before you got any impulses from your normal life. But I think you are ready for that now."

Kurt carefully dries his tears, looking at his psychiatrist and giving him a small thin lipped smile.

"Unless something occurs, we won't have any appointments during the weekend, so until I see you again on Monday, I want you to think about who and what can make you feel loved and valuable."

Kurt glares at doctor Whimchester. What a stupid task, that will be easily finished.

"Do you want me to escort you to the kitchen, to join the others with the baking?" Thomas asks, getting up.

"Yeah, I'd like that. I enjoy baking, actually." Kurt sees Whimchester scribbling something in his notepad, before Thomas leads the way out.

They take the elevator up two floors, and enter a big kitchen. Kurt grumbles as he sees the work table. It looks as if all of the persons present have been working on separate projects in a intoxicated state of mind, leaving flour, egg shell leftovers and butter all over the place. It's a mess.

"Hey Kurt," Melinda, one from the staff, says. "We decided everyone could make something, so we have plenty of snacks all weekend. Do you have anything you'd like to make?"

"What's available for me to work from?"

"Take a look in the fridge and cupboards, and see if you find everything you need. On the shelf over there you'll also find some books with receipts, or if you need to look something up online we can go downstairs again?"

"That's OK, I'll see if you have what I need for my usual cookie batter."

"Sounds yummy!"

Kurt brings the ingredients back to the working table, and slips down in an empty chair. Around him the other patients are in various stages of baking. Izabelle is crouched in front of the stove, probably to make sure something doesn't burn. Yosef is decorating cupcakes with green icing. Sarah is working on an impressive amount of almonds. The two girls he still doesn't know what is called are making cinnamon roles from scratch. Kurt looks around, but Blaine is nowhere to be seen. That's… disturbing. Kurt's unsure if there's any tension between them, if he should fear Blaine's retaliation after he trespassed every boundary, if he's safe. Kurt isn't sure if it's better to find out those answers, or not knowing where the boy is and what he's thinking. Kurt decided to concentrate on baking for now, and starts whipping together the ingredients for his chocolate cookies.

"Sarah, what are you making?" he asks politely.

"Oh, I'm making home made marzipan. You know, it should have been with organic eggs and almonds, but I couldn't get it, so I will have to settle with second best. Did you know some historians claim China is the origin of marzipan? And as adopted Chinese, it is of course important for me to go back to my roots now and then. Some says the origin is Spain, but China has always been more evolved and exploring than Europe, so I don't believe that to be true."

Sarah keeps on rambling about the various theories of who invented marzipan and the glory of the Chinese dynasties.

"Oh God," Kurt thinks, "here we go again."

* * *

It took time to get everything done in time, and they are all being hurriedly ushered in the elevator to get back to their floor for lunch. Kurt finds Blaine already seated by the table, together with those from the staff who hadn't been helping out with baking. It turns out whoever decked the table had miscounted, so there isn't enough seats. Kurt's left standing, awkwardly. Matthew, Blaine's contact person and seated next to said boy, hurriedly gets up, claiming he's done eating, and offers Kurt his chair. Carefully, Kurt sits down. Sure, Blaine had seemed OK during breakfast, but now he's had some hours to think about it, maybe found back to the inevitable embarrassment, anger perhaps. But Blaine looks up from his plate, watching Kurt with twinkling eyes.

"Hi," he says with laughter in his voice. "You all smell so nice!"

Kurt watches him carefully.

"Uumm… Yeah, we've been baking?" he says hesitantly.

"I know, I so wish I could have been there, I have such a sweet tooth. Hopefully I'll get to taste later on, even though I didn't participate in the making," he says and winks. Blaine freaking winks to Kurt! Can he be angry while winking, and smiling so cute and being eager over some pastry? And when did Kurt start to think about the boy as cute? Hadn't he decided that from now on, a strange person was supposed to be considered a threat first and foremost? Kurt shakes his head to himself, almost not realizing he does, and reeling in.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem, it must be plenty for all of us for several days," he says.

"Awesome – I love weekends!"

Kurt is about to ask how a usual weekend at the psychiatric ward for youth entails, but is being interrupted by Matthew telling him there's someone for him. Kurt happily gets up, expecting it to be his dad coming in early. Matthew walks with him to the entrance door, and there Kurt finds a stranger, not his father.

"Are you Kurt Hummel?" the heavily built man says with a rough voice, making Kurt take a step backwards while nodding slowly. "I've got something for you." Kurt shuts his eyes, memories and flashbacks flowing behind his eyelids of slushies he's been presented by similar looking guys sometimes saying those words. But nothing happens, so Kurt peaks through the corner of one eye, and sees the man offering a big bulky present wrapped in white paper. Kurt opens both eyes, and shaking arms reach out to accept what's being offered.

"Have a nice day," the man says, and before leaving Kurt realized the man had actually been smiling all the time, but Kurt hadn't been able to notice, disturbed by the messenger's appearance.

"It seems as if you've gotten flowers," Matthew says, and Kurt almost jumps, he'd forgotten the older man had followed him to the floor. "Why don't you go into the common's room and open them there?"

Kurt does as told, and sits down on a couch. He carefully rips off the string and tape, and then unwraps all of the paper. And surely he's gotten flowers – it's a big crazy bouquet. Kurt feels overwhelmed. It's put together of so many different flowers and colors, and the aesthetician in Kurt cringes slightly. But only slightly, because the bouquet is thoroughly marvelous, and Kurt can't really believe it's for him. Who would give him something like this? Tied to the bouquet is a small old fashioned teddy bear, with a blue silken scarf around its neck, holding a big red heart in its paws, and the heart says "We wub U". Kurt's not sure if it's tacky or sweet. Then he finds the card, which looks homemade. He opens it, scans the words, and finally he lets a suppressed tear fall.

_Dearest Kurt!_

_We hope you like the bouquet – it's put together by everyone's favorite flower, so that we all have contributed and given something from ourselves. We are so, so, so sorry that we never realized how bad things were. We love you, come back soon, and let us know if we're allowed to visit._

_Love _

The card is signed by all the members of New Directions. His stepbrother Finn, his bestest Mercedes, his rival and love-hate friend Rachel, sweet Tina and her adoring boyfriend Mike, Puck the softest badass in the world, innocent and kind Sam, Artie who he had a lot and nothing in common with, seeing he was in a wheelchair and got bullied for being different as well as Kurt did – but there stopped all similarities. Quinn, Santana and Brittany have signed, or at least he assumes the kitten with a B on its forehead is Brittany and Lord Tubbington. Even their director, Will Schuester, has signed.

Kurt feels a dip in the couch next to him, and looks up to see Blaine has joined him.

"That is the most uncoordinated, mismatched bouquet of flowers I have ever seen, and I think I'm completely in love with it," he says fondly.

"It's… It's from my friends," Kurt explains. "They have put it together with each of their favorite flower, no matter how it clashes."

"How thoughtful and endearing, it makes it really personal and precious," Blaine says, and his voice seems so honest. Kurt takes a chance and looks him in the eyes. In his beautiful eyes.

"That's what I though as well," he whispers.

"I've never been much of a fan of those perfectly lined up, endlessly replicated, flawless things. They lack character, personality and consideration. Maybe that's why I love homemade cookies, but never buy any boxes at the supermarket."

Kurt just looks at him, with curiosity and wonder. Maybe this boy isn't a danger anyway? Maybe he can relax a bit around him? Maybe he is actually a decent guy? Kurt decides not to bring up last night together, just in case it triggers something, 'cause it's really nice to have someone to chat a little with now and then while he has to be here.

"I wish I could tell my friends how much I really appreciate this. It's the first time anyone's ever bought me flowers."

"Don't you have a phone?"

"Yes, but it ran out of battery, and they took the charger, so…"

"I know, we aren't allowed to have anything we can use to hurt ourselves. But just ask Thomas or one of the others, and they will charge your phone for you in the staff room. You aren't being punished and isolated. Or, well, not completely isolated at least," Blaine says with an awkward chuckle, looking around in the room, before resting his eyes on Kurt again. "Young man, your phone privileges have _not_ been taken away from you," Blaine says with a mock stern face and voice, making Kurt giggle.

"OK, I'll find Thomas immediately. Thank you for resolving some of the mystery surrounding this ward, no one ever told me that."

"Not a problem, I've already told you to ask me if there's anything you wonder about," Blaine answers as Kurt gets up to find his dead phone.

"Hey Kurt?" Blaine's voice makes Kurt stop. "Do you think I could have your number? Next time I can't sleep, maybe I could.. You know… Ask if you are awake, and if you maybe would help me with more French? Or something?"

The question makes Kurt do a double take, almost stumbling over his own feet.

"You want my number?" he squeaks, ridiculed.

Blaine blushes, but doesn't look away from Kurt. "Yeah, I'd like to, if you'd be comfortable with it."

And that's the question, isn't it? Is Kurt comfortable with giving his number to a stranger? It will make him more vulnerable, giving the boy a chance to send him rude texts, prank calls, or down right evil calls. It gives him a connection to Kurt, but does he wants it? Can he trust him? And is it wise to encourage nocturnal meetings? But this boy actually brought up their nightly hours together, using it as _the_ explanation to get his number. Kurt doesn't know if he'll regret this, but happy bubbles have been bouncing in his tummy after he got the flowers, and his protective walls have slightly opened their gate for Blaine to peek in. So quite spontaneously and out of his new character, Kurt reaches out his hand to get Blaine's phone and save his number.

"Thank you so much, Kurt, I really appreciate it," he says, making Kurt think he actually knew how difficult it was for him.


	9. Burt

**AN: As I warned, I have been away and not able to update the last two weeks but I have gotten several chapters done in my head lately, so me making an effort at the typing will provide for new updates soon.**

**Again, bear with me, as English is not my mother tongue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

* * *

On Kurt's hesitant request, Thomas had immediately made sure Kurt's phone had been charged, and apologized for forgetting to tell him about his possibilities. When Kurt got his fully charged phone back, he had shot off some quick, identical texts to the guys in New Directions, telling them he really appreciated the flowers. He felt a bit weird around them he wanted to show how grateful he was for their nice gesture, but he felt both ashamed and awkward after having pushed them away from him for such a long time. Life had just been too much, and being close to people while putting up a charade had been more of a hassle than anything else. So he had quit Glee and shed away from his former friends, to be able to be more on his own, not having to put up a face around them anymore. It was too exhausting. Of course there had been reactions, and several of them had tried to convince Kurt to come back. But eventually his constant refusals had made them let him go, going back to being caught up in the regular Glee drama and preparations for the next set list. The flowers showed that they hadn't forgotten about him, they still cared and had again tried to reach out a hand. But could he take the offered hand? Was he ready to face them? Kurt wasn't sure about that, and hence he hadn't mentioned anything about visits in his texts, but sticking to a polite and generic 'thank you'.

The bouquet of flowers has been placed on his night stand. Of course it isn't in a normal glass vase that would be considered something potentially dangerous, if he decides to break the vase and use the glass pieces to hurt himself or someone else. So the flowers have been tucked in a milk carton wrapped in tin foil. Kurt is slightly amused and slightly petrified by the implications. There are still so many things he doesn't know about this place, and getting to know about all the quirks and routines also gives him more insight in the patients and hence himself. He understand he is being treated as suicidal, but it is still a weird feeling realizing all the restrictions and guarding that is being done to aid to his survival. So many minor things and routines he usually didn't think about have been altered, showing how important they are in his life. Now he has to ask for help to get his phone charged. He can only shave under supervision. And his flowers are wrapped in garbage.

Kurt isn't stupid. He realizes what he did was serious and not looked easily upon. He hadn't done it with an easy heart either, and sad to say it wasn't done on a desperate whim. His effort to end his life had been a long process he had brooded on for such a long time, until deciding he just couldn't take it anymore. Enough was enough, things wouldn't get better, and he had seen no other options. He was just so sick and tired of everything, and needed an escape. He just couldn't breath anymore among all the things that happened at school. He was fed up with constantly feeling suffocated, and had taken matters in his own hands. Or wrists.

He was sad for the pain and sorrow he had inflicted on his father, on Carole and Glee. But he was too worn down to really take that into consideration, and after all it had never been in his plan having to face their feelings. He had planned to just disappear from this cruel earth, thinking they would get over it and move on when they didn't have to worry about him anymore. But alas, here he is sitting quite alive, and Kurt feels exceedingly nervous about meeting his father for the first time after he got conscious again.

* * *

Blaine is leaning against the wall next to the elevator, waiting for the rest of the guys joining for the bi-weekly physical exercise. He's feeling jumpy and restless, and is hoping today they'll do something enabling him to burn off some energy, focus on something else but his mind, maybe make his body a bit tired, and calm down.

Usually the physical exercise isn't hard enough to make him produce any sweat. The goal is to be a bit more active than sitting in the couches and chatting. They do trust-exercises, or get their cooperation skills challenged. But today Blaine really wants to feel his muscles burn, he needs to be physical. Maybe they'll let him use the boxing facilities. They are in another room, though, so it depends if there are enough available in the staff to separate the group.

Blaine sighs, leaning more heavily unto the wall and sending a quick glance at the big clock on the wall. Just a couple of more minutes to wait. Most of the patients have already arrived, circling around in front of the elevator. They are highly encouraged to join the various activities thorough the day, and as Blaine quickly glances at the people around him he notices Kurt is the only one who hasn't joined them yet.

As Blaine finishes that thought, he notices a door down the hall open up, and the same boy silently glides out of his room. Blaine watches how he walks with his head held low, and how he seemingly freezes for three seconds as he realizes the hall is crowded. There aren't more than six people, including Blaine, but it still makes the narrow hall filled with people. Blaine wonders what kind of thoughts are running through Kurt's mind those few seconds. Based on his own history, he assumes Kurt is choosing between a flight back to his room or fighting his way through the little mass of people. Blaine watches Kurt curiously, noticing how the body seems to shrink slightly, before moving silently and carefully past them, head and eyes downcast, keeping well controlled as if afraid to bump into someone. Blaine's heart aches for the boy, and he wishes there was something he could do to help Kurt. But Blaine is useless and worthless; he will never be good enough and should stop trying to do anything, 'cause he'll just end up a failure anyway.

Blaine tries to swallow the big lump clogging his throat, fighting back some traitorous tears. He had felt so good during lunch when he'd sat next to Kurt and chatted lightly about the bouquet of flowers he had gotten. But now he feels like shit, fighting the urge to run to his room and bury himself in the covers. He knows so well he is expected to join physical exercise, and Blaine would of course not _disappoint_ anyone by revealing what a mess and loser he is. So he puts on his face, again hoping he'll be able to punch out some of his frustration today, while resting his eyes on Kurt who's sat down in a couch in the common's room. He hopes he'll get the chance to talk more with the boy, and he hopes the boy will actually be answering him. Sometimes he only offers one syllable responses, while other times Blaine feels they are almost heading into a normal conversation. But at least he has the boy's telephone number now, he thinks while absentmindedly patting the phone in the pocket of his sweatpants.

The doorbell chimes, and someone heads off to open up. As Blaine and the others are being ushered into the elevator by Melinda and Matthew, Blaine gets a quick glimpse of Kurt enveloping a solid built man with a flannel shirt and caps in a tight embrace.

* * *

"Kiddo…" Burt's muffled voice resonates against Kurt's shoulder. Eventually their tight grip loosens, and Burt takes a step back, carefully studying his son from top to toe.

"Do you… Do you want some coffee? It's a decent, black coffee, nothing fancy, but it should suit you if you are thirsty, or just want a cup to hold on to, or…" Kurt rambles. Burt laughs, although strained, accepting the offer.

Father and son sit down in the couch. As everybody else is off for the physical exercise, they have privacy even though they are seated in the common's room. Kurt remembers Thomas had mentioned they could use the conversation room if they wanted to, but there's no need for that at the moment.

"How are you holding up, kid?" Burt asks his son.

"I'm here," the son answers eventually, silently, not quite sure if he's referring to the ward or to the fact he's still present and alive on the planet. He shoots a careful glance at his dad, sees his red eyes and black circles. It's clearly he isn't sleeping well, and Kurt feels a pain of guilt in his chest.

"I want you to know I'm talking with your doctor, Winchester or what's his name, at least once a day, and he has kept me update on your wellbeing. He told me not to contact you, neither by mail nor phone, as he wanted to make sure you were ready for it. But today I was granted audience," Burt says, slightly rolling his eyes. He had been trembling with rage when being refused talking with or visiting his son, not agreeing at all to the doctor's reasoning that Kurt wouldn't be ready immediately.

Kurt simply nods to his dad's statement.

"It's good to see you, kid," the father bursts out. Kurt smiles slightly, mouth closed. Burt knows his son quite well, and can read him surprisingly easily at the moment. His son doesn't want to talk about what happened, so Burt won't pressure him on that for now that's the doctor's assignment. Instead, Burt opts for talking about Carole, Finns latest shenanigans, and news from the garage. Kurt listens, hums here and there, asks questions when he thinks a story needs to be elaborated, and after a while Burt has managed to get Kurt to talk in full sentences in a fairly normal conversation. Kurt tells him he isn't able to floss anymore, because it had been confiscated, and he tells he had baked his mother's cookies earlier that day.

"I don't understand why we do the things we do here, though. How is this going to making me well again?"

Burt has no good answer, but promises himself to voice Kurt's concern to his doctor. Whimchester had made it clear Kurt wasn't sharing much in their sessions yet, but they wouldn't press him right yet, he still obviously needed time to settle down, to digest what he did and the aftermath. But Burt knows his son, and he knows he needs to see the logic of things happening. And Burt can agree that doing craft or cooking seems more like kindergarten's than hospital activities. He'll talk to Carole tonight; maybe she as a nurse has some insight and understanding of the quirks of mental health care.

"Kurt. Don't think we don't care about you and continue our lives as if nothing has happened. You scared us really bad, and I hate to admit it came as a shock to us. I hate how I failed to notice any warning signals. But to get some moments resembling normal life, Carole and I try to go to work, and we'll tell Finn to go back to school on Monday. We need it. But don't you for one split second think you don't matter, 'cause you do," Burt says sternly. Kurt simply nods.

"Finn wants to visit. Would that be OK with you?"

Kurt has to admit he's surprised by his step-brothers gesture, but can't help feeling touched by his effort to make them closer. So he agrees, telling Burt it doesn't matter what day he comes, but maybe he should check with Thomas first.

"Are there anything back home you want us to bring you? Clothes, books, music, films, whatever?"

Kurt shakes his head. "I can't think of anything, but I'll text you if I suddenly miss something."

Father and son hug before separating hesitatingly. Burt gives his son a final pat on his back, promising him everything's going to be OK. On his way out he finds Thomas in the staff room, making an appointment for Finn to come visit. Kurt is at that moment back in his room, face down in his pillows, letting go of all the tears he had been holding back in front of his father.


	10. 20 questions

**AN: Thank you to everyone who is reviewing and subscribing to alerts on this story, it means a lot to me!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my wicked mind.**

* * *

Kurt wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing, text incoming. When he touches the screen, he notices he has 15 new texts and three missed calls. The calls are from Finn, Mercedes and Tina. He checks the details, and notices they all called while he was talking with his father. The texts are from all of the members of New Directions, and even one from Carole. The texts are polite and friendly, but a bit hesitant, asking how he is, telling they are glad he enjoys the flowers, and some of them wondering if they can come to visit. He answers all of them, telling them he'll let them know about visits later on. It's too soon, he doesn't think he's ready to see them yet, but of course he doesn't say so. It's touching to see how much they care, and Kurt spends the next hour texting with most of them, being updated on Glee gossip and life outside of the ward. Eventually the flow of texts ebbs out, so Kurt finds his Harry Potter-book to read some more chapters. As he opens it, he wonders if Blaine has finished his Italian version of the book.

Kurt is about to begin on the second last chapter, when someone knocks on the door. He urges them in, and it turns out to be Thomas telling him dinner is served.

"How was it to see your father again?"

"Really nice. We're close; I've missed him."

"And on Sunday your brother will be visiting as well. Are you as close?"

Kurt has to think before he answers.

"Maybe we'll get there?" he settles for. He loves his step-brother, and they _have_ become close during the last year. But it's still far to go before they will have the same relationship he has with his father, if they'll ever get there. They are so different, but sometimes that's what makes them go so well together.

"I have to finish your daily report, is it anything I ought to know to add in it before I leave for today?"

Kurt can't think of anything worth mentioning. He is reminded Margaret is his contact person as he heads for the dinner table. He hasn't much of an appetite, though, so after nibbling a bit at his chicken and mostly poking in the rest of the food, he excuses himself and heads back to his book.

* * *

Blaine bolts up from his clam pillows, relieved he finally managed to escape from the nightmares that are haunting him. It seems more and more difficult to wake up for every nightmare, and he's forced to go through all the cruel images flashing on his eyelids. The scenarios are usually the same, and even though doctor Whimchester tells him they aren't real and just a foster of his self-punishing imagination, it still shakes him up roughly. He didn't get to do any boxing earlier either, so he was already quite tense and jumpy before he fell asleep, the nightmares not improving his crappy day.

A quick glance at his phone tells him he slept through dinner, and his stomach grumbles. Oh well, it's Friday, so later on there will be some of that snacks the others had made earlier that day. Hopefully it can get is mind off of the nightmares, so he can get a decent night of sleep. Maybe they all will agree on a movie to watch on TV, or some episode of a reality-show. Maybe they will play board games while enjoying the sweets. Blaine suddenly remembers playing five in a row with Kurt, and smiles, the nightmares not as important anymore. He reaches out for his phone. Should he? Can he? Will it seem strange to text someone who may be sitting only a couple of doors away from him? Blaine decides to let Kurt be the one to deal with that question, as he starts to compose a text. He really needs a distraction now, besides, he's curious about the boy and would like to know more about him. A playful smile replaces his previous worried wrinkles. He chuckles as he sends the text. Hopefully, Kurt won't see him as an utter fool.

* * *

Kurt's concentration is being disturbed by his phone buzzing on the night stand, alerting an incoming text. But no way is he going to remove his eyes from his Harry Potter-book, with less than ten pages left to read. He huffs, already annoyed with whoever interrupted, and dives into the book again.

Seven pages later, the book is carefully closed in his lap. He exhales. He always feels so empty when a book is finished, and if the book was really good he has a craving for more. He feels exhausted as well, as if he's been participating in the story throughout the pages. He feels all the emotions Harry and his friends go through, and he just wants to reach out and be a part of them, he wants to continue on their journey.

Sadly, it's impossible at the moment, as his father hadn't thought of packing any more books for him. Kurt wouldn't care which books had been packed, 'cause lately reading has been all about distraction for him. When he can disappear in a captivating story, he doesn't have to think about the story of his own life. That's why he had fallen in love with Harry Potter and other books of the fantasy genre. They didn't remind him of his own reality, and offered a great escape.

Kurt remembers seeing some magazines in the common room, so maybe he could borrow some of them instead. They would do for now and hopefully Finn wouldn't mind bringing him some books on Sunday. His father had told him to let them know if he needed anything, so that would have to be OK, right?

Kurt decides to take a shower. The shower room in the hallway is mostly occupied during the mornings, so it's easier to find it available in the evenings.

* * *

It's barely a sigh, but it's loud enough to fill the room with thunderous noise. Blaine throws his phone away, and it lands on his foot, and bounces off to the end of his mattress. He whines from the dull pain, smacking himself mentally for his idiocy. Of course Kurt wouldn't answer his stupid text; of course Kurt would think it childish to text someone living in the same ward; and of course Kurt would find the content of his text inappropriate.

Blaine's eyes moisten, and he scolds himself for being so… For being so Blaine! Once again he's proved to himself he's a hopeless, worthless case of a misfitted, misconstructed sore example of a human being. What can he do to make this right again? What can he do to make up for his embarrassing approach to Kurt? Blaine has to make everything _perfect_ again. He shoots his phone a hateful glare, deciding not to touch it until he knows he won't make an ass of himself again, and boots his laptop to continue on his French paper on _Le Petit Prince_.

Another example of how stupid Blaine is, he should know by now that he's never able to do his home work well enough when he's in such a mood. Even though he knows that, he still isn't listening to himself. That's just how stupid I am, Blaine thinks, pressing his palms to his tired eyes.

* * *

The shower did wonders for Kurt, and he steps into a clean pair of loose yoga pants, a white t-shirt, and a McKinley-hoodie with a kangaroo-pocket from his days as a cheerleader. The clothes he wore before the shower are tucked in his other bag, along with the rest of his laundry. He doesn't know what to do with it, but for now he has enough clean underwear for a couple of more days.

He grabs his phone, notices two texts, and remembers the buzzing alerts he had chosen to ignore while finishing his book. He opens the first text as he gets comfortable in his bed. The text isn't from someone in his contact list, and he doesn't recognize the number. Kurt hesitates before continuing. Should he read it? It wouldn't be the first offensive text he gets. His contact list has been gradually extended during his time at school. Not because his limited circle of friends grows, but because he's chosen to save the numbers of his tormentors as they have called and texted him, to help him prevent answering or reading them again. So, his contact list consists of entries like Karofsky, Azimio, Don't Answer This One, You Don't Need To Read This and IGNORE. Sadly, it doesn't help much, as the jocks always find new ways to reach him – he guesses they borrow other's phones to send a quick hurting text. They use payphones, they probably steal some phones, and change numbers once in a while. Some of them have also mastered the art of getting hidden caller-ID. How swell they find ways to improve and challenge their intellect, Kurt thinks sarcastically. He's getting annoyed, and decides to read the texts. He's tired of being scared.

_Hey Kurt, it's Blaine. Blaine from the cuckoo's nest, you know. It's Friday, and I need some entertainment. You seem like an interesting guy, so I though maybe you'd participate in a game with me? I suggest "20 questions". _

Kurt chuckles at the film reference, blushes a bit when Blaine describes him as an interesting guy, and saddens while thinking about how wrong Blaine is. There is nothing interesting about him. Quickly, Kurt opens the next text as well, as it is from the same number.

_Oh, and I play with quite decent rules, I think. You are allowed to pass up to 19 of the questions. Please play with me? Blaine_

Kurt laughs at Blaine's eagerness. He had felt reluctant to partake in such a game – why should he open up to a – more or less - complete stranger? How can he trust Blaine with any information about himself? Why would Blaine want to know anything about him, what's his secret agenda? And what if Kurt accidentally says something that freaks out Blaine, making their days at the ward completely embarrassing, humiliating and horrible? But then Blaine goes on and gives Kurt the chance to withhold answers from almost all of the questions. There would have to be one question sooner or later that Kurt would feel comfortable answering? With his book finished, maybe this would be a nice distraction? Then he wouldn't have to go into the common room were the other sit as of yet either. Kurt quickly types out a reply.

_I'm intrigued. Do continue._

* * *

The buzzing sound has barely finished as Blaine jumps up to retrieve his phone from the end of the bed. With trembling fingers he opens the text, anxious to see who it is from and what it says. He quickly notices it's from Kurt, and he gets nervous. What if the boy is mad at him, yelling at him and calling him on all of his bullshit? Blaine swallows heavily, dreading what the message could be, various suggestions spinning around in his mind.

It's his shaking and sweaty fingers that finally accidentally make him open the text, showing the four words Kurt had texted. A big grin appears on his face, as he leans back, trying to decide what he wants to ask first. Blaine doesn't know it, but his eyes lighten up and get a peculiar glint on them, as he types out the first question.

* * *

_1) What is your coffee order? Blaine_

Kurt laughs out loud when he receives the next text from Blaine. He has no trouble answering that particular question. Now that he can pass on every single one of Blaine's next questions, Kurt relaxes visibly. Now it's just a game of fun and play, and he can enjoy it without dreading anything. He quickly types out his answer, and adding a question for Blaine as well.

_Grande non-fat mocha. And you?_

* * *

Blaine's phone quickly buzzes again, and he eagerly reads the answer, then types back. It may seem like an innocent question, but to Blaine what you drink tells a bit about who you are. Knowing Kurt's coffee order makes him think about the boy as concerned with eating healthy and paying attention to what he puts in his body. But the mocha tells Blaine he also likes the taste of something sweet, preferring it to the more bitter coffee taste. And Blaine can bet Kurt loves his coffee, as he goes for the grande. He pictures Kurt sitting in a coffee house with his friends, clearly enjoying a good cup, chatting animatedly and happily about this and that, spoiling himself to a refill because it's non-fat, getting slightly more vibrant from the big portion of caffeine, and splurging in the delicious liquid. The mental picture is a stark contrast to the silent, guarded and shredded boy he's seeing here at the ward.

Further down the hall, behind another door, Kurt has read Blaine's short answer. _Medium drip_. Kurt's thinking about how much he feels knowing a person's coffee order reveals something about the personality of said person. Drinking a medium drip seems so mature and adult, and Kurt plays with the thought if Blaine really is that grown up, or if it's to keep up a façade. Surely, he doesn't know the age of the boy, but he seems around his own age, which means he is too young to go all grandpa just yet. The medium drip seems so safe, so boring, so restricted, so limited. Shouldn't he be a playful youth, exploring what life has to offer? There will be enough of possibilities to drink plain coffee later on, but given the choice, why not indulge in other tastes? A medium drip seems so limited, as if he's banning himself from any kind of luxury, as he's preventing himself from the good things in life, even in the form of an unimportant cup of coffee.

Kurt and Blaine sit back in their respective beds, sighing. "I'm curious about you," the boys think for themselves.


	11. Distraction

**AN: I am sorry for shamelessly shipping my favorite books in this chapter, but hey - they really are worth the praise!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, neither Glee nor Discworld.**

* * *

The boys had been sending texts back and fro with harmless questions like favorite color, favorite meal, and least favorite class at school. When Blaine asks about favorite song, Kurt uses his option to pass the question. He isn't ready to blurt out his flamboyant Broadway-loving homosexuality to someone he doesn't know how will react. _Defying Gravity_ as his number one song of all times isn't exactly a neutral song choice. Kurt doesn't ask for Blaine's favorite song either, not wanting to ask for more than he gives. Luckily Blaine hasn't shown any negative reaction over text, just respected his own rules, and asked a new question.

_8) What books are you currently reading?_

Kurt types out his answer with one hand.

_I just finished Harry Potter & TPOA, and it's the only book I have here, so the answer would have to be "none". And you?_

It takes some time before Kurt gets a reply, and he rereads the question from Blaine while waiting. He notices he has written books in plurals, and then remembers seeing Blaine reading both an Italian HP-book and the French book for homework. Maybe Blaine is the kind of guy who never read only one book at the time?

Kurt is right. When he finally gets an answer from Blaine, it mentions five other books beside the two Kurt already knew about. Kurt chuckles, as his phone buzzes again, and he opens a new incoming from Blaine.

_I don't know what kind of books you prefer, but if I have anything in your liking you are welcome to borrow anytime. I have plenty._

_Do you live in a library?_ Kurt asks.

_No, me and my eclectic love for books live in 317_, is the answer he gets shortly after.

Kurt decided to be brave, and heads for Blaine's room. Nothing can happen to him there, right? He isn't lured into a trap? He tries to shake the paranoia off of him as his knuckles hit the door with a sign of 317.

"I didn't know if you were coming," Blaine says when he has opened the door.

"Oh sorry, I could have texted, I didn't think," Kurt apologizes.

"No harm done," Blaine states and gestures for Kurt to enter.

Kurt doesn't know what to expect, as he hasn't seen the rooms of the other patients. He hasn't made any effort in his own room. After all, it's a hospital – kind of, at least – and not a private room, so he hasn't thought about making it personal. His clean clothes are in one bag, the laundry in another. The flowers from the Glee-kids are on his nightstand. Everything he has is tucked away in his own bags; nothing has been unpacked and put in the drawers or wardrobe.

Blaine's room is quite the opposite. One of the doors to the wardrobe is open, and Kurt can see it's semi-full with clothes. Unlike Kurt, Blaine has a desk in his room, and it's loaded with a mess of papers, pens, books, and binders. Of course he needs a desk; he's doing homework, so he needs a proper working station, Kurt realizes. The shelf over the desk is filled with picture frames and some decorations Kurt is too polite to check out more closely, as he would have to cross the room to get a better look. Blaine's bed is unmade and looks as if he's been tossing a lot in it, and Kurt quickly looks away, feeling he's invading something private. Across the bed is a big, comfy-looking chair with some pillows and a blanket. Beside is a stack of books. Blaine's room is bigger than Kurt's, so it doesn't seem over-furnitured or crowded.

Blaine heads to the drawers, opening the top shelf, and waves Kurt over to him.

"I don't have a book shelf, so I store my books here instead."

Kurt is looking at the backs of 30-40 books, and so many questions run through his mind, the most prominent one wondering how long Blaine has been here. The room seems so lived in, and who needs that many books during a hospital stay? Kurt feels an urge to turn around, ask Blaine about his struggles and challenges, and give him a hug – and then Kurt feels shaken, because that is not a healthy urge to have. Kurt silently scolds himself, he has to be more careful. He may sometimes still have a death wish, but he most certainly also wants to be in control of how it happens.

His index finger has been playing absentmindedly with the books, so hopefully Blaine hasn't noticed Kurt's silence and minor freak-out. Kurt only recognizes some of the titles.

"Do you have any recommendations?" he finally asks.

"Well, what kind of books do you enjoy?"

Kurt really enjoys reading, and has a varied taste in books. But certain moods require certain genres, so lately he's been sticking to the books that allow him to run away from the reality for a while.

"I'm in a fantasy-phase, exploring books with alternative universes..."

"Then I have the perfect book," Blaine beams, and pulls up a worn-out paperback with a really colourful cover. "I love this. It's the first book in a series of almost 40 books, but each book tells a finished story, so you don't have to continue with the rest of the books to understand or if you don't fancy it. They are sooo immersive, I love them and have read all of them multiple times, and I'm rambling, I'll stop now," he says and blushes, shoving the book in Kurt's hands.

Kurt studies the colorful cover. It's jammed with figures and characters, and Kurt quickly realizes it's the kind of drawing you can study for hours and still find new details. A chest running on tiny feet catches his attention, and Kurt grins. Yeah, this seems like what he needs at the moment. Kurt finally catches the title and author of the book: _The colour of magic_, by Terry Pratchett.

"Thank you, it seems promising," Kurt says, grin still in his face, and Blaine grins back.

"I always have big expectations to those books, and they never ever fail me," he says, eager clear in his voice.

"I see, you like to set the bar high?" Kurt teases, but immediately regrets it when he sees Blaine's reaction. His face gets all blank, the boy seems to crumble and shrink in front of him, and he slowly sinks down to bed. Kurt doesn't know what to do, doesn't even know what's really happening.

"Umm… Blaine?" he asks carefully. No reaction. He crouches down in front of Blaine, trying to find his evading gaze. He's careful not to touch the boy, because boys don't like it when gay guys touch them, he knows that. So he waves his hand in front of Blaine's eyes to get his attention.

Blaine shakes his head as if to empty it or forget something.

"Hi…" Blaine says, finally fixating his gaze at Kurt.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Kurt. I just… Remembered."

Haunting memories and flashes is something Kurt really can sympathize with, so he just smiles hesitantly, tilting his head.

"I… I don't always appreciate the images my mind present to me, so I like to have books available to distract me," Blaine says with a shaking voice, pointing at the still open drawer.

"I can relate…" Kurt whispers.

The boys lock eyes, sharing an understanding of the pain the past can provide for them, unprepared, all of a sudden, out of the blue.

A knock on the door makes them jump apart. Kurt finds himself sitting in Blaine's deep chair as the boy opens the door.

"Blaine, you should come to the common room, you missed dinner, so I'm sure you don't want to miss out on the freshly baked pastries and sweets," the gentle, but deep voice of Matthew fills the room. He looks past Blaine and spots Kurt.

"Kurt, you should join as well, you must be eager to taste the fruits of your labor from earlier, so to say. The TV is available now, if you can win the fight over the remote. Jenny and Sandy seem quite adamant to watch _Project Runway_, but we try to have democratic Friday nights in front of the TV."

Kurt realizes Jenny and Sandy must be the names of the two blond girls he hasn't managed to catch yet. He wants to tell Matthew he wouldn't mind watching _Project Runway_, but he doesn't know how the other guys will react. He's not tip-toe'ing back to the closet; he's just trying to protect himself, Kurt chastises himself.

* * *

Blaine had eaten a couple of the cupcakes and cookies, before retrieving back to his room. He still feels a bit shaken up from the flashbacks, and needs to be alone with his thoughts. Luckily, he doesn't need to explain much to Matthew. He knows how he works, and likewise Blaine also knows he will talk more about this with Dr. Whimchester over the weekend.

_I see, you like to set the bar high?_

The sentence grinds on Blaine's brain. It isn't heard in Kurt's voice, though, and not with that friendly, teasing glint either. The sentence has been resonating in Blaine's ears so many times. Accusingly, disapprovingly, spotting, unsupportive. Every time he has tried sharing his dreams and ambitions with his parents, that's what he has been met with. Kicking the feet under him, shoving him down, telling him he'll never be good enough at it, and killing his dreams in their birth.

Which is quite ironic, because they have great expectations for him in other areas – the areas they have decided ought to be his path, to ensure a safe and comfortable future. His parents have decided their own dreams and ambitions for him, pushing him to be even better, to help him succeed. His parents aren't cruel; they just don't understand or respect his dreams. They want all the best for Blaine, they love him and wish he will have a great future. They push him in certain directions and to certain goals, because they honestly believe it's best for him, because they are scared his dreams are too narrow and will make his life too complicated and difficult. So they give him a path to follow which will give him endless possibilities in the end, but the outcome is… Unfortunate.

They think they are encouraging him to be even better, while Blaine is left feeling inadequate, like a failure. They are the kind of persons who don't show much love or affection. Their feedback, as Blaine started to see it as, is constructive, but always focusing on the negative, the things that can be improved, the things that aren't perfect.

Blaine worked so hard to be even better, to be perfect, to please his parents. But he never gets the appreciation he needs, he never feels accepted as good enough, and it started to influence Blaine. He began retreating into himself, he lost his self-esteem, he stopped doing the things he loved because they could take away time and energy from his efforts to improve his school work. He pushed himself harder and harder with the studies, while slowly losing any inner strength. His parents don't believe in him, why should he? His parents don't think he's good enough, why should he think otherwise? His parents don't think he tries hard enough, so why should he try anymore?

One day, he just snapped at school, he did something really unexpected. It was enough to make the administration at school worry, call his parents, and after a difficult talk with the school's guidance councillor, he had landed a bed at the psychiatric emergency ward for youth. Blaine didn't think he really needed _emergency_ help, but his parents' name and money had provided him a spot anyway.

Blaine swallows thickly, a big lump is pressing in his throat, and he feels the hot liquid running down his temples as he's lying down in bed. Logically and rationally, he knows his parents love him, they want the best for him, and want him to have a safe and solid future. They think they help him provide for that, pushing him and making sure he got the best of his potential out. But their loveless parenting methods have left him feeling like a failure, like something worthless and deviant. He tried for so long, and even though he left behind the things he love to focus solely on the things his parents said mattered, he never made it. Blaine tried and tried, but at last there were no more chances, no more effort. Blaine is so, so tired from trying. He's a worthless quitter.

Silent sobs and shaking shoulders lulls the boy into a restless sleep.


	12. Mirage

**AN: I'm sorry for the late update, but I've had some really nice and surprising things happening to me in real life, which made it difficult to write this as dark as I wanted to as fast as I usually do.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Finally he is back at McKinley – no more dreaded and hurtful talks with the therapist, no more hospital beds and sterile surroundings, no more worried calls and looks from his father. He's back in the hallways at his school, he can spend time with his friends again, and Kurt is feeling really good. He takes one last quick look at the mirror in his locker, and is satisfied with both hair and clothes today. He's sporting a pair of purple skin tight jeans, white boots, a black shimmering button up and the last McQueen-jacket in white. Hair is perfect.

He slips into the choir room, and is greeted by all of his friends. Warm hugs, pats on his back, sweet words and big smiles. Schue, their director, joins them shortly after.

"Kurt, it's good to see you are back, I do hope you're feeling better."

"I'm feeling great," Kurt replies honestly.

"Great, great. Listen, Regionals are up in two weeks, and we need to work on our set list. We have more or less finished a group number while you were away, and Santana and Puck are working on a duet. I was wondering if you would like the solo this year?"

Kurt is dumbstruck. It's so unlike them to be so prepared several days before a competition, but Kurt doesn't stop to ponder about that. He just got offered a solo – he's trembling from anticipation and happiness.

"Yes, yes, of course yes!" he beams.

"Excellent, Kurt. I have some suggestions, but you think about potential numbers as well, and we'll talk more about it during practice tomorrow. Now, we need to let Kurt in on our group number. Mike, can you teach him the dance routine?"

Kurt and Mike get up and head for the auditorium to work on the dance moves. It's a really great routine. Challenging, but so much fun, and Kurt expects it to be grand when all 12 of them are doing it together.

The bell which ends last class for the day has chimed, but Kurt needs to get back to his locker. He's got a lot of home work to do after his absence, and needs to get all the necessary papers and books with him back home.

The hallways aren't as crowded now; a lot of the kids have gone home. Some cheerleaders pass him and nod a quick hello – they haven't forgotten how he helped them win Nationals. He smiles back, mouthing a "hi".

He turns a corner, and walks right into a wall of flesh.

"What did you tell them?" a familiar voice hisses. Kurt freezes wide eyed, his vocal chords are on a strike, and his legs are paralyzed. _Karofsky_, is the only thing his mind manages to think.

Two big hands grab him by the lapels of his wonderful jacket, and lift him up from the floor.

"I told you I'd kill you if you told anyone" the voice spits in a threatening whisper. Kurt is shaking, tears are pooling up in his eyes, but he isn't able to say the four words _I haven't told anyone_. "Do you know what people have been talking about while you were at that crazy-house? They think it's my fault, and now you have to pay, _fairy_!" He shouts now, pressing Kurt more and more into the wall as if he thinks it will open up and swallow him.

In one quick movement, Karofsky has taken hold of Kurt's tie, and is dragging him after him down the hallway. Kurt trips, falls, and ends up being dragged with his feet and butt stumbling on the floor. He tries to get off of his grip, but it's impossible from his position. The tie tightens, and it gets more and more difficult to breath. He tries to get a hold of his tie with his own arms, but Karofsky's grip is too firm and close to the knot, it's nothing he can do to loosen the tightness around his throat.

There are other people in the hallway, but no one does anything to stop Karofsky. Anyone should understand Kurt doesn't want this, but not one single person interferes. Tiny stars are dancing in front of Kurt's eyes, bright lights in all the blackness, and he can't see anything else. He thinks he's about to choke, when Karofsky stops. Kurt hears the beep from a car alarm being unlocked. Karofsky lets go of his tie, but then his strong arms envelope his waist, and Kurt has no chance to react before he's being thrown into the trunk of a car.

The lid is being slammed shut, and shortly after the sound of an engine starts. Kurt coughs, trying to get his breath back, but his lungs won't completely cooperate. He tries to scream, he tries to knock on the lid, but he knows no one can hear him.

Finally, his tears escape from his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep or blacked out, but Kurt is brought awake by two hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He can't hear what the voice says, it's too dark, but he tries to fight off the hands. He has to, he doesn't know what Karofsky will do, but his threat seems too real and not something Kurt wants to take lightly right now.

One hand is shaking him, the other hand caressing his cheek. No, no, no, Kurt thinks, don't touch me, don't kiss me, don't do this. His voice still won't give out any sound. He trembles, feet kicking, but they are trapped in something.

The hands are trying to move him, get him out of the trunk, and Kurt does everything in his power to protest, but his body is tired and in an odd position, so it's not much he can do. He tries to toss, roll and trash around to make himself more difficult to grab and lift. He doesn't know if it works, but the arms stop trying to pull up his upper body, and is forcing him to lie still instead. Oh God, what is Karofsky going to do? Will he rape him? Will he be punched to death in the trunk? Has he got a gun, weapon? Is this it? Where are they?

As if granted a wish by a genie, his voice suddenly has volume, and Kurt screams from the top of his lungs. Probably surprised, the hands loosen their grip one tenth of a second too long, and Kurt uses the opportunity to try an escape. He kicks and hits around him, and aims to jump out of the trunk to run away. He lifts his upper body, decides to just roll out the short distance to the ground, but somehow the car has grown higher during their ride, so Kurt falls.

The pain shoots through his body, as he lands nose first on a hard, cold floor. He curls into himself, trying to force away the pain and find back to the breath punched out of him when he landed. A gentle hand is laid to rest on his shoulder, and a concerned voice is waving in and out of the drumming in his head.

"Kurt … me? … bed …. OK? … lift you…"

Strong, careful arms take hold of him, and help him back on his feet. They let go of him. Kurt takes one step on shaking legs, he's dizzy, and almost collapses on the floor. The hands are back immediately, steadying him, holding him upright. His breathe is erratic; quick and short intakes of air, he forgets to breath out again. The arms slowly push him backwards until his hips meet something hard. Then the arms move to his waist, and with ease lifts him up. Kurt realizes he's being sat down in a bed, and it isn't until then he opens his eyes.

Kurt blinks a couple of times, confused and disoriented. He is in fact sitting in a bed, in the room he's been living in for the last four nights, at the psychiatric ward. Where did Karofsky go? Margaret is sitting beside him in the bed, and crouched in front of him on the floor is a male assistant he hasn't noticed before.

"You had a nightmare," Margaret tells him.

Oh. A nightmare. So the kidnapping wasn't true? It felt so real, though. He looks around the room, just in case.

"I never was in the trunk of a car?" he asks, voice shaking and hoarse.

"You're safe," Margaret comforts him, gently patting him on the knee. Kurt shivers, and leans away from her touch.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" the male on the floor asks.

"No!" Kurt quickly interrupts. If what he experienced in fact only was a dream, he is able to escape, and won't go back to it.

"You can come and sit in the common room, if you want to," he offers.

Kurt tries to get out of bed, but his legs buckle under him, and he leans heavily on the bed to stay upright.

"I have to leave…" he mumbles. He can't stay in this room now. Margaret and the man stand up as well, and guide him to lean on their shoulders. They help him out in the common room, and he slumps down in a couch.

"Do you want anything, Kurt?" Margaret asks with a kind, soothing voice and Kurt actually thinks for a while if there's anything he wants.

"Book, on the nightstand," he mumbles. His head feels foggy, his throat dry and voice rasp. His body feels heavy, he's nauseous, and everything spins in slow motion. Tim the assistant has already left to pick up his book.

"I guess you feel a bit weird, but it's the sleeping pills. They are still in your system; you haven't slept as long as the pills' effect lasts. That's why it was so difficult to wake you up as well."

"It felt so real," Kurt whispers. He still feels scared, his heart is beating fast, and he feels sticky from dried sweat.

"Some get nightmares as a side effect from the pills, so I'll have a talk with doctor Whimchester about it in the morning."

Kurt settles down in the couch with the book and a big glass of water. Margaret has promised to make him coffee. Strong coffee. Kurt opens the book to the first page, and starts reading. After ten pages, he realizes he can't remember one single word he has read. His eyes fly over the words, the sentences, the lines, the pages. His left hand turns to a new page each time his eyes land on the bottom right corner of the book. But his mind isn't in it. It doesn't see the words, understand the meaning. They are just letters. He continues to read, though. It's a way to be occupied, to keep himself awake. Kurt glances quickly at the big clock on the wall. It's a quarter past four. Roughly four more hours before breakfast. Maybe it'll be easier to stay awake when the others are around. Kurt can do this. He sighs, rubs his eyes forcefully, sits up straighter with his feet firmly planted on the floor, and continues the non-reading of the book.

After two hours he's done with the book, so he starts over again – why not? It's not like he's actually absorbed any of the words, so it's just something for his hands to do. A part of Kurt wants to go back to sleep; his eyes are heavy, his body aches, and he just wants to disappear to sweet dreams. But then he remembers his nightmare, and a cold shiver runs down his spine, he starts to sweat, and he doesn't want to try sleeping anyway.

Both Margaret and Tim – the male assistant, Kurt had learned – have tried to make conversation with Kurt, but he honestly has nothing to say, nothing to tell. They don't nag about him getting back to bed, and let him be alone when he answers with short, muffled words. Margaret gives him coffee and water, but they drop by the common room now and then to see if he needs anything. Otherwise they are in the hallway, checking in on the rooms where the other patients are sleeping, being available if anyone needs them, and whisper silently together about Tim's new cat and Margaret knitting a new sweater for her youngest granddaughter.

Half an hour before breakfast, Kurt decides to take a shower. The words on the pages are starting to swim, and his eyes droop, so he has to do something else to pass time. A long hot shower to help his tense body, and then a cold shower to be more awake, that sounds like a plan.

By the time he's out of the shower, Thomas is waiting for him in his room.

"Hey Kurt, I heard you've had a rough night."

"Yeah…"

"I'll call doctor Whimchester about the pills, as we aren't allowed to alter the prescriptions the doctors make. How are your bandages, did they get wet in the shower; should they be changed?"

Kurt studies the soaked fabric on his wrists, and shrugs.

"I'll make sure a nurse comes by really soon. Do you want to join us for breakfast?"

Kurt quickly shakes his head, but stops when it makes him dizzy.

"No thank you, I feel squeamish, don't want to throw up by the table."

"That's quite understandable after such a night. Are there anything else I can get you?" Thomas asks with polite concern. Kurt thinks about it for a while. He had been thinking about something when he studied himself in the mirror in the bathroom.

"Umm… Could I borrow my razor, to get rid of this?" he asks, waving a hand in front of his own face. He hasn't shaved in almost a week, and although he really doesn't care how he looks, it will be a way to kill some more time.

"Sure, of course."

An hour later, Kurt is clean shaved, and he's gone through some random bottles of skin products his father had packed – not the right one and not everyone he normally would need, but Kurt honestly doesn't care, he just needs to do something to stay awake. The nurse has just left his room, and he has clean and dry bandages on his wrists. The nurse had explained he could remove the bandages on Monday, as the wounds were healed enough. She would come back later to remove the stitches.

It's the weekend, so they have no program to follow. Thomas had explained they were free to do whatever they wanted, but the TV wasn't allowed until after five o' clock. Later on the staff will organize a walk for those who want some fresh air or need to restock in the shop on the corner. Kurt mentally goes through his toiletries, and decides he has everything he needs. Maybe he could buy some magazines, but what's the point? Kurt sighs, and slumps down in his bed, making a new effort to read the book he borrowed from Blaine.

He takes his time, really concentrating to absorb and digest the words, not only skimming through. Kurt actually manages quite fine, although he has to stare wide eyed on each sentence and read it three times to catch every single word.

Kurt is jostled by the thud from the book which lands on the floor. He blinks several times, stifles a yawn and shakes his head. He almost fell asleep. He has to get out of this bed if he wants to continue escaping from his nightmare. As if saved by the bell, his phone buzzes.

_Are you busy? Blaine_

Kurt can't exactly say he's busy, so he types out five letters and two words.

_No. Why?_

The answer comes faster than Kurt thought it possible to text.

_Please meet me in my room in twenty minutes._

Kurt frowns. Part of him is curious, but the bigger part is hesitant. Is this a trap? Is Blaine trying to reel him into a fluffy cocoon of safety, before throwing him into the centre of the storm? Kurt tries to breathe with his stomach and lower his shoulders. Where can he feel safe, where is his sanctuary? How much has he already lost, and how much more will he lose?

18 minutes has passed since he received Blaine's last text. Kurt takes a deep breath, before getting up from bed to find Thomas telling him where he's going. It's the best safety net available for now.

* * *

There's a knock on his door, and Blaine quickly opens it. He's been pacing, waiting, hoping Kurt would come. Blaine is nervous, afraid he had said something wrong or done something stupid. He never got a response to his request, and he's taken a big chance now, not knowing if he's crossed some limits or broken any rules. At the sight of the boy, he visibly relaxes, glad he at least showed up.

"Hi," he exhales, finally able to breath. "Please come in," he says, opening the door more and gesturing for Kurt to enter. He notices how careful and guarded the boy steps over the threshold, and his throat thickens.

"I… Umm… I got you this," he says, ducking his blushing head while handing Kurt one of the paper cups standing on his desk. Kurt looks curiously at it, but accepts it.

"What is it?"

"Have a taste," Blaine says, hoping he's encouraging the boy. He can see how restricted and hesitant the boy is. "I haven't spiked it," he laughs carefully, and counts it as a victory when the other boy takes a small sip.

"You know my coffee order!" His blue eyes brighten, and Blaine can almost see a smile on his face as Kurt takes another sip.

"I know your coffee order," Blaine states matter of factly. "Please sit down," he continues as he grabs the other paper cup with his own coffee. Blaine settles down in his chair, and Kurt gently sits down on his made bed.

"Why did you do this?" Kurt asks in a hushed voice.

"The coffee we get here isn't really that great," Blaine shrugs. It hadn't been his plan when he got to know Kurt's coffee order, but today it had seemed like a great idea.

"So you went out to get coffee?"

"Yeah…" Blaine can see Kurt's curiousness in his eyes, and he can see his hesitance to ask more. Blaine wants this. He wants to get to know the boy better, and it would be nice to have someone to talk with here. Even though they haven't talked much since they first met, Blaine still thinks they have some kind of connection. He decides to take yet another chance in front of this boy, and share something with him; maybe it'll make him open up more easily.

"As part of my treatment, I have to leave the hospital area for at least half an hour each day. It's me against my fears and the world," Blaine says rolling his eyes and making jazz hands. He quickly looks at Kurt, who sits with his head slightly tilted, big question marks in his pupils. But Kurt is too polite to ask.

"I… I've run away, a lot, from my problems." Blaine swallows, trying to get rid of the big lump which isn't his adam apple. He takes a big sip of his coffee, almost burning himself. "Doctor Whimchester says it's about time to 'face the music', and 'interact with the society'." Blaine can't help but imitate the psychiatrist's voice, and looks up at the sound of Kurt giggling.

"I'm so sorry!" the boy interrupts himself, "that was uncalled for. Just your voice…"

"It's quite OK," Blaine quickly adds, smiling with his mouth shut.

"So you have your daily adventures, and today's mission was coffee," Kurt states, making the other boy smile slightly wider. "But I didn't think we were allowed to leave on our own?"

"We aren't at first – everyone here has been through a trauma of some sort, and needs time to heal. When you're deemed ready, you can go out for shorter amounts of time for errands or apply for some time on leave to visit family or whatever."

Kurt simply nods while Blaine does his best to let him into more of the complex and intricate systems of the ward. He doesn't quite know what more to say about it, and takes a sip of his coffee.

"Have you started reading the book yet?" Blaine asks after a while.

"Umm, yeah, kind of," Kurt answers blushingly.

"Kind of?" Blaine replies, eyebrows raised.

The room is silent for some minutes, and Blaine can see Kurt searches for the words.

"I read it once, and then I read it twice, but I never got any of the words. It's like it was written in a foreign language, and I couldn't understand a word. They are just meaningless letters."

"Oh I know, I know," Blaine chimes in. It's all too familiar, the lack of concentration, how the words start to swim, and you can read an entire book without being able to find a single word to tell what it was about afterwards.

"I started to read it a third time, though, and if I really focus and work hard, I get some of the storyline. But it's exhausting. I guess my brain is foggy from the sleeping pills as well."

Blaine is impressed. Kurt seems like a fighter if he doesn't give up that easily, and tries so hard to actually read the book.

"I really need the distraction," Kurt says, and Blaine realizes he voiced his thoughts out loud.

"Well, thank you for the coffee, but I should go back to my room," Kurt says getting up from the bed.

"Oh, OK, well, see you later?"

Kurt looks at Blaine quizzically.

"Yeeees," he says, dragging out the word. "I don't think I will be discharged within the next few hours."

Blaine blushes, silently accusing himself for being a complete idiot.

"Or else you have my number," Kurt says as he saunters out of the room, making Blaine's stomach flutter.


	13. Idol

**So, I have managed to hurt my arm really badly, and it's difficult to get any typing done, so next chapter might have to wait a bit, depending on what the doctor says :( I'm told to not use my arm, and I can't type with one hand. But I will do a lot of mental writing, as usual. Please wait for me, I'm not giving up on the story.****  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Glee_ or _American Idol_.**

* * *

Kurt isn't able to eat more than half an apple for lunch, but he downs three generous cups of coffee to help him stay awake. The hours disappear in a foggy blur. One of the nurses encourages him to go to sleep, but Kurt isn't ready to face the nightmares just yet.

Jenny and Sandy have pulled out Scrabble, and Kurt decides to try joining, hoping it will kill off some more time of this eternally long day. The girls smile, and invite him to sit down by the table. Kurt usually is quite the eloquent guy, with a wide vocabulary, but the game bricks he is being dealt aren't on his side, and his brain isn't cooperating today either. He starts with some of the unhelpful, useless letters – two Z's, together with A, D, I, L, and N. Kurt quickly sort the letters to _Linda_, making a mental note they can also form _Land_, and put the Z's to side, wondering how on earth he can use them unless he ends up with some O's.

"Do you mind if I join?" Blaine asks the trio. Both Jenny and Sandy have already laid down their words.

"You don't have to start over," he continues, as Jenny smiles to him and reaches out her hand to clean up the game board. "I can just team up with Kurt. If he doesn't mind, that is." Blaine looks hesitantly at Kurt, but his face split into a grin as Kurt pulls out the chair next to him.

"So this is what we have to work with," Kurt says, doing his best to not reveal his frustration over the stupid selection of letters.

They look at each other, and then try to outstare the letters. On the board they have to work with _Greed_ and _Dog_, the D being their link. Kurt can't think of a single word to put down, unless he's allowed to use a Z to pluralise _Dog_, but he highly doubts it.

"Ooh!" Blaine exclaims, and Kurt tilts his head and looks at him. "May I?" the boy asks, holding his hands hesitantly over their letters.

"Go ahead," Kurt encourages. Blaine shuffles the letters, to give Kurt the chance to accept the word before it is put on the board in front of the girls. Blaine leans away from the letters he worked with, and unsubtly points at the G in _Dog_.

"Go for it!" Kurt giggles, and Blaine uses all of their letters and the G to spell out _Dazzling_.

Kurt gathers seven new letters for them; ending up with A, E, I, L, M, R and Y.

Jenny uses one of the boys' Z to spell out _Gaze_, and Sandy writes _Owl_ from the O in _Dog_.

Kurt mentally plays around with the letters, trying different combination.

"Do you have anything?" he asks Blaine, who shakes his head slowly and hesitantly, as if he's about to recognize a word, but isn't quite there yet.

"I think I have one…" Kurt continues.

"Please," Blaine says, waving at the board.

Kurt picks up four of the letters, and from the D in their first word, he spells out _Dream_. Before Sandy can continue with her turn, Blaine quickly adds the Y at the end of the word Kurt spelled out. Seemingly satisfied with himself, he turns slightly towards Kurt, lifting up his right hand, as he exclaims "dream team!" Kurt high five's him, shaking his head laughingly.

In the end, Jenny wins. Kurt and Blaine got stuck with the letters Q, X, Z, Z and K, and they really aren't that easy to get rid of.

Sandy suggests a round of Yatzy, and the other three agree. Kurt appreciates the generic activity, it'll keep him occupied without having to use his sleep deprived mind at all. Roll, gather the correct dice, roll twice more, gather more dices, and do the math. Perfect.

"If we split up in pairs we have enough time for one more round of Yazty," Jenny says when Blaine has been crowned winner of their first round. Jenny lost. The others hum their agreements.

"Great, would you like to be on my team, Blaine? You seem to be a champion in this game," Jenny smiles.

"Of course," Blaine responds politely. Sandy jumps quickly up from her chair, offering it to Blaine, so he can sit next to his partner.

Blaine offers Jenny the chance to roll the dices first, and she gets two 1's. Two rolls later, and they end up with four 1's.

"Great start," Blaine smiles.

"I think you may be my good luck charm," Jenny replies, blushing and looking down in her lap.

As the game continues, Kurt carefully observes Jenny, making sure he won't get caught staring. He notices how she flicks her hair, smiles at Blaine, ignores Kurt, giggles at Sandy, scoots her chair closer to Blaine, talks to him while blinking her eyes coyly, and squeezes his biceps excitedly when he rolls a full house. Kurt remembers doctor Whimchester telling him to spend the weekend thinking about how he knows he is being loved. There's a pain in his chest as he watches Jenny flirt with Blaine. Kurt could give anything and everything to have a cute boy giving him some attention, making him feel special and wanted. There's such a longing in him to feel treasured, to feel chosen, to feel needed. Usually he feels hated, ignored, despised, worthless, replaceable and imperfect.

In the end, Kurt and Sandy win the round of Yatzy, and Jenny apologizes to Blaine for giving him bad luck. He just laughs, reminding her it's just a game and he had fun anyway.

They get salmon for dinner, and the smell of it is too strong for Kurt, making him feel nauseous. He excuses himself before leaving for his room. He lies down on bed, starring at the ceiling, doing his best to think about absolutely nothing. A knock on his door interrupts his effort. Thomas walks in.

"Hey Kurt, how do you feel?"

"Like I'm gonna throw up," Kurt mutters. Thomas comes by his bedside.

"I brought you some fruit and coffee; you should eat something, you didn't have much for neither breakfast nor lunch," he says and places a banana and an apple on Kurt's nightstand, and a big cup of coffee as well.

"Thank you," Kurt says quietly.

"I've talked with doctor Whimchester, and he said we should try the sleeping pills for one more night, sometimes you just need to get used to it for the side effects to disappear."

Kurt's mood darkens, he was hoping he would be able to either stay awake tonight, or at least sleep with less terrifying nightmares.

"Some of us are going for a walk after dinner, why don't you join us. It will do you good to get some fresh air, maybe clear your head a little. You haven't been outside for several days."

It's clear from Thomas' tone of voice and facial expression that Kurt doesn't have much of a choice. He simply nods, although reluctantly.

"Great, I'll get you when we're ready to leave. Now eat some fruit," Thomas encourages before leaving.

Kurt peals the banana, and eats it slowly. The food grows in his mouth, but the soft fruit is fairly easy to forcedly swallow down, small bite by small bite. The cup of coffee is drained within minutes, however.

When Thomas comes to pick up Kurt, he's already in his boots and jacket, a scarf securely wrapped around his neck. The November night will be chilly, and Thomas is right, Kurt hasn't been outside in more than a week, except for a short walk from the emergency room to the psychiatric ward.

By the entrance door, all of the patients are waiting, so Melinda has joined them to help Thomas lead the pack of seven teens.

"So, do we have any requests for destinations?" Melinda asks.

"Candy!" Yosef beams.

"Magazines!" Sarah shouts.

"OK, so we'll go to our usual, then."

As they descend the stairs, Kurt feels nauseous again, and dizzy. He slows his walk, letting the other pass him, and he leans heavily on the railing. He's almost at the bottom when he can taste the sour taste of bile in his mouth. Kurt jumps down the last two steps, lands clumsily on shaking legs, but manages to push past whoever is in front of him, and get out the door. Once outside, he drops down on his knees on the wet grass, and heaves. Tears fill his eye brims, as he empties his stomach, back arched from the strong contractions. He clutches his arms around his own waist, trying to hold himself together. He's gasping for air in between the heaving, and it takes a couple of minutes before he feels the gentle press of two hands through the thick coat rubbing his back. In a far distance he can recognize the voice of Sarah explaining to the others she thinks she'll have to vomit as well.

Kurt feels as if he's all emptied out, so he tries to get up. Another set of arms are on his back, and as he tries to stand on his shaking legs, he can feel two hands under his shoulders and two arms on his arms helping him up. He sways slightly from the vertigo, and he is pulled closer to a body he can steady himself on.

"Thank you," he whispers, looking up at the concerned eyes of Thomas. On his other side, Blaine is stepping slightly away from him and rummaging his jacket pockets. The arm is cold where Blaine had put his hands to help him.

"Kurt?" He looks up at Blaine, who's offering a packet with paper handkerchiefs.

"Thank you," he says again as he accepts the packet, and takes a handkerchiefs to dab on his moist eyes and wipe his mouth.

"Come on, I'll follow you up," Thomas says, and enters the code to the entrance door.

Kurt crawls slowly up the stairs, still feeling dizzy, and weak from emptying his stomach. Thomas doesn't leave him until he's tucked in his bed, and his contact person makes sure he has a glass of water on his bedside table before he leaves. Not before long, Kurt drifts off to a dreamless sleep.

A firm knock on the door wakes Kurt up from his sleep. He yawns, stretches his arms and back, and rubs his tired eyes, before stumbling out of his bed to open the door.

"Hello sweetheart!" a cheerful Margaret greets him on the other side. "Thomas left while you were sleeping, and I'm here for the evening and night. How are you feeling?"

Kurt steps away from the door to let her in while he thinks, trying to feel how his body is acting.

"Not so dizzy, but still nauseous," he concludes.

"Have you been able to sleep anything today?" she asks with clear concern in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm quite sure I've slept the entire time after I threw up. How long has it been?"

"About an hour. Thomas and I talked with doctor Whimchester again, and he has decided you shouldn't take the sleeping pill tonight. They won't have any effect if you throw it up anyway, and you need to rest. It seems you sleep better without that brand of pills, so we try that for now. Is it OK for you?"

"It's fine, I don't mind," he answers.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"No, I think I'll try to read, I don't want to lay awake tonight."

"OK sweety, we are outside if you need us."

With a smile, Margaret leaves the room. Kurt has grown quite fond of the woman. She reminds him of a mix of his step mother Carole and a grandmother he's never had. She doesn't act as if he's a burden or just a part of her work routines; she manages to make him feel cherished in some kind of way. Too bad he can't keep her forever.

Kurt scoots back in his bed, reassembling the pillows to give a nice support for his back, and grabs the book on the nightstand. He is quickly interrupted, though, by a new knock on the door. This one is more hesitant and careful, as if the person knocking isn't sure what to do.

"Come in!" Kurt calls, not too eager to leave the cocoon of pillows he's just gotten right.

The door is opened slowly, before it finally reveals Blaine standing there awkwardly.

"Umm, hi. Am I disturbing? I just saw Margaret leave, so I thought…"

"Please, come in," Kurt says politely. He still doesn't know if he can trust him, but the boy had actually reached out a hand to help him when he got sick, that should count for something, right?

Blaine walks across the room and stops by Kurt's bed. There are no chairs in his room, so Kurt pats his bed to signal for Blaine to sit down. Then he sees the plastic bag the boy has brought.

Blaine inches himself into the bed until he's leaning on the wall, and Kurt automatically hands him one of his pillows. The boy accepts is gratefully, and empties the content of his bag on the bed.

"My mom used to give me this when I was sick, so I thought maybe you'd want some as well," he says, holding up a bottle of Gatorade and a box with dry, sweet biscuits. "She used to make me chicken soup as well, but I'm not allowed into the kitchen, so…"

The boy looks almost apologetically, and it makes Kurt chuckle.

"Thank you, Blaine, that's really sweet of you. You didn't have to…"

"I wanted to. You looked so miserable, and I wanted to cheer you up."

"Gee, thanks for the compliment," Kurt says dryly, before remembering where he is and how little he knows about Blaine. He shouldn't say things that can be interpreted as gay or flirting or coming on to or thinking someone is coming on to him. Kurt swallows hard, his throat is dry, and he feels a little bit anxious.

"I don't think anyone's ever mastered the art of puking elegantly or sexy, so don't fret," Blaine says simply.

Kurt blinks. This boy is confusing him, because he is hammering on his protective walls and actually making Kurt long for the walls to tumble down, heck, he might even contribute to demolish them brick by brick himself. And he shouldn't do that with a stranger, he shouldn't trust so easily, he shouldn't bond without more hesitation, he shouldn't put himself in danger so recklessly.

"I know it's almost mandatory to bring something to read when you're visiting someone in a hospital, but I remember you said it was difficult to concentrate. Besides, I am also in this hospital, and I have a room filled with books you can borrow, so I skipped that part. But I brought this," Blaine says almost proudly, and presents a small package.

"Cards?"

"Yap," Blaine says, popping the P profoundly. "I haven't seen any decks in here, and I thought it could be a nice way to pass time with a brainless effort," he says, smiling bright.

"You shouldn't feel obliged to entertain me," Kurt whispers, feeling self-conscious and bare.

"Kurt, pleeeeease play cards with me?" Blaine pleads. "I need to be away from Jenny for a while. She… She's a bit intense, and I don't like her like that. I'm really bad at this romance stuff, so please let me hide here?"

Oh God, Kurt thinks. His eyes are so beautiful. Right now they are like big, brown, begging puppy eyes. How can I ever resist that look? Yes, of course, he adds a pout. No wonder Jenny swoons around him. Maybe he should get out of here as well; I bet he wouldn't feel comfortable if he knew he was hiding from a crushing girl in a room with a boy who is crushing on him as well, Kurt thinks. Wait, am I crushing on him?

Kurt almost chokes on his own revelation, but manages to disguise it as a cough.

"We can put up a sign on my door with 'no girls allowed'", Kurt shrugs.

"Yeah, boys are better than girls," Blaine beams.

"Don't wanna get cooties," Kurt continues detested, scrunching his nose.

Both boys crack up laughing, and it feels so good. Kurt can't remember the last time he had such a heartfelt laughter.

"OK, OK, cards, what should we play?" he says, panting for air and wiping away some tears.

"I don't know you well enough for strip poker, otherwise I'm game for anything," Blaine smiles.

"I'm pretty sure strip poker never will be an option," Kurt says, narrowing his eyes.

"We'll see," Blaine simply answers, and starts dealing out the required cards to play _Idiot_.

It turns out, Kurt is the _idiot_. He blames his lose entirely on his lack of concentration. It could be because he's sleep deprived, haven't eaten properly in two days and his body is feeling beaten up from exhaustion. But Blaine is a really, really cute boy, and he's sitting in his bed. No, scratch that. Blaine is so much more than just cute. Kittens are cute, scarves are cute. Blaine is gorgeous, sexy, adorable, and down right tempting. And inside the hot body, is a charming, kind, generous, and intelligent boy. At least that's the impression he's been giving Kurt these days, but how should Kurt know? Anyway, nothing will ever happen between them, there's no chance of that. Penguins will be building igloos in hell before anything happens between Kurt and Blaine. Even if this was a fairy fantasy world, where the drop dead beautiful boy in his bed was gay and liked him – even then nothing will happen, because Kurt won't let it.

"Thank you for the biscuits and drink, they actually made me feel better and less nauseous," Kurt says as he gathers the discarded cards spread all over his bed.

"I'm glad. And thank you for letting me hide, although I'm sorry I made you an _idiot_," Blaine says, his voice a mixture of amusement and apology.

"Pssh, I've been called worse…" Kurt responds absentmindedly and without thinking. As he realizes what he just said, he crumbles and scoots back in his bed, trying to make a distance from a far too personal moment. He can see Blaine has tilted his head and watches him with concern, but he doesn't say anything.

Kurt is frantically searching for something to say, but is saved by a knock on the door. Margaret enters, and she smiles genuinely when she spots both of them.

"Hey boys. We have more of the cookies and cupcakes from yesterday, and I have made hot chocolate. Would you like to join us in the common room? We'll eat in front of the TV, the girls wanted to watch _American Idol_."

"Sure, sounds delicious," Blaine eagerly jumps down from the bed.

Kurt hesitates. He's left music behind, and doesn't want anything to do with it anymore. Blaine turns around to face Kurt. "Come on, Kurt, you need to eat something. _American Idol_ is still showing the initial auditions, so there are a lot of terrible performances for us to dish out on."

Kurt chuckles, because even though he used to love a good music performance, there's a lot to enjoy in something really, really bad as well. Watching an episode on TV isn't the same as embracing music again, is it?

"I'm a really picky music critic, so brace yourself. I don't know if cakes and sweet beverages are the best thing for my stomach now, though."

He refuses to add he can also be a harsh critic of the contestants' hair, make up, and clothes, because even though it's part of the performance, and half the fun, he doesn't want to scream gay either, not when he doesn't know if he's safe.

"I think we have herbal tea, Kurt, I'd be happy to make you a cup if you want," Margaret offers.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd love some," Kurt accepts with a sincere smile.

* * *

Some of the contestants are really awful. Of course Blaine knows the producers choose some of the worst for the case of entertainment. Probably the most of the auditions were decent or average, but it's more entertaining to watch those who are unique – either because they impress or because they depress, at least if you have some musical taste.

Kurt and he had sat down on the couch, and Jenny had immediately sat down next to Blaine. Everybody is munching on the sweets from yesterday, and Blaine has made sure to praise everyone and again apologizing for not contributing with anything but eating. The hot chocolate tastes delicious. There is an eager commenting rolling on the participants in _American Idol_ in the room, and it could have been almost like a normal, nice Saturday evening among friends. Except Blaine feel thorn, and can't quite relax. On his left side, Jenny is sitting a couple of inches closer than necessary in the roomy couch. She's turned her body in his direction, so he's sitting ramrod straight – he doesn't want to encourage her by twisting his body in her direction, but he's too polite to sit with his back to her as well. He offers to refill her mug of hot chocolate as he pours some more for himself, but he makes the same offer to Kurt on his right side. Because it's the polite thing to do. Every nerve cell in his body wants to ignore the girl and make her understand her advances are unwanted, but the voices of his parents are ringing in his head, telling him to behave.

Jenny touches his knee as she laughs at something funny he said, she jokingly smacks his shoulder at a particularly rude comment he made – because he doesn't have to be polite to strangers who decided to enter reality-TV, and she tries too hard to say something witty Blaine can laugh at.

Kurt, on the other hand, has a wonderful snark and sass in his comments, and Blaine thoroughly enjoys them. The problem is, Kurt doesn't comment out loud, he only says something if Blaine is actively listening to him. So Blaine wants to tilt his body towards Kurt to make him understand he listens, he wants to hear what Kurt has to say, let him know he can share with him. During the five days Kurt has been in the ward, Blaine has observed how tense and restricted the boy is. He doesn't relax, but sit with a rigid posture, carefully placed limbs, a guarded expression, and he hardly says anything. Blaine takes it as a compliment when Kurt actually talks with him, in proper sentences, and it's an equally large compliment to Blaine when he notices how Kurt's shoulders relax a bit, and it's pure joy to see the boy somewhat melt into his seat because his tense posture loosens a bit. Blaine feels proud. He is the boy who can never do anything right, he is the boy who is never good enough, he is the boy who always stumbles and falls, he is the boy with no achievements. But he is also the boy who manages to make Kurt smile, laugh, relax and reveal glimpses of the real Kurt. That's a victory for Blaine, even though he initially didn't even make an effort; he was just being his usual polite self. But there is something about Kurt that made Blaine wanting to try. Making Kurt feel better is also making Blaine feel happy, and he honestly thinks they both need and deserve to feel good once in a while.

Blaine sighs, and shifts slightly on the coach to get ready for the program to continue now as the commercial break is over. His left leg is crossed over his right leg, and even though he's not sitting with his back to Jenny, he tries to tell Kurt he will listen; his attention is directed towards him, not her.

* * *

The herbal tea tastes delicious, and with some added milk it's cool enough for Kurt to drink it immediately. His empty stomach growls from hunger and anticipation, and welcomes the hot liquid with open tummy-arms. He obviously knows the cookies he baked are low on sugar and doesn't taste too sweet, so he nibbles on one of those to further ease the craving his intestines are having.

Next to him he can sense Blaine being skittish and restless. Jenny is seated on Blaine's other side, and Kurt is tempted to think that Blaine would have wanted to be alone on the couch with such a cute girl. Maybe he'd want to put his arm around her, tell her jokes, comment on the terrible singers and give her long, meaningful looks. Kurt has noticed how Jenny is hitting on Blaine. But then Kurt remembers Blaine had actually come to his room asking to spend time with Kurt to be away from said girl, and hadn't he said he didn't like her like that? So maybe he feels trapped, now that hide and seek clearly is over.

Blaine is sitting faced forward in his seat, which must make it more difficult to watch the TV, as it is placed 90 degrees to the right of the couch. A similar couch is facing the one they are sitting on, a coffee table between them, and on the left side is a smaller couch with two seats. Some recliners are perched in the corners between the couches, and if still someone lacks a place to sit, they can bring in chairs from the dining table. At least ten people can be seated to watch TV or chat, and it's the same place they have their daily morning meetings.

Kurt would like to lean over and rest his body to the right, so he can more easily see the TV. But it feels rude to do such thing, almost positioning himself with his back to Blaine. That would be offensive, and he doesn't want to make anyone feel annoyed with him. So he continues to sit straight with his body, head turned too much to the right to be comfortable.

Kurt feels Blaine's eyes on him when a rather boring performance begins, and he turns his head to face forward, but not looking at him. Blaine is watching him with a peculiar glint in his eyes, so Kurt decides to share his thoughts on the performance – Blaine has seemed attentive and appreciative of his comments so far.

"Puh-lease," he mutters silently. "Anyone of my friends could sing that woman under the table. What is wrong with the relatives and friends who tell their dear ones they are worthy of a record contract, when they in fact won't make it through a karaoke competition at the local pub?"

Kurt can hear Blaine chuckle, and as the boy leans forward to answer, he can feel his breath against his left ear.

"I'm so glad I'm not the only one thinking like that. A good friend isn't a true friend if they can't be honest with you. And honestly, this is mediocre."

Kurt tries to suppress laughter, he doesn't want to draw attention to himself from the others.

"But who are your friends – have they won any karaoke competitions, or are they recording artists?"

"They sing in the Glee club at school, and last year they even went to Nationals." Kurt decides to leave out the fact he had been a member of the show choir back then, it isn't important, because he quit a couple of months ago.

"Nice, I sing in the Glee club of my school too," Blaine answers silently, making Kurt quickly wonder if they may have met in competitions. But he doesn't ask which school Blaine attends; he doesn't want to pry.

The next participant they see is a girl, and Kurt's heart falls into his almost empty stomach when he realizes which song she is auditioning with. _Defying gravity_; his Achilles heel. The diva-off against Rachel to see who would get the solo, where he ended up faking it to lose and prevent his father from getting any more hassle because Kurt is gay, and some morons just can't stop telling him and his father how disgusting that is. So he blew the high F, even though he knew he could – and still can – hit it. This girl doesn't blow the note; she doesn't even try to reach it. Instead she has chosen to drop an octave at that part. It feels as if someone is crushing Kurt's heart. The girl destroyed a beautiful song, on national TV, when given an amazing opportunity. _Fuck_, Kurt thinks. _It isn't fair_.

"What's wrong?" Kurt then hears Blaine whisper in his ear, and oh, had he said that out loud?

"Nothing, just a walk down memory lane," Kurt quietly responds. He quickly and carefully risks glancing up at Blaine, discovering the boy is giving him all of his attention, he has even turned his body slightly towards him by crossing his left leg over his right knee. Or maybe he only did it to see the TV better. But his eyes are firmly watching Kurt.

"OK," Blaine whispers back, and this is also a reason why Kurt has to pay attention to how he sits in the couch. It's like a magnet pulling him towards Blaine, his body is screaming to let him allow the brain to send the needed nerve impulses to allow his body to lean into Blaine. He can feel the warmth from his body against his left side, and whenever the boy whispers something in his ear, it tickles. In a good way. So Kurt is sitting still, body facing rigidly forward, forced to ignore any impulse or desire. What is happening to him?

The next contestant is also a girl, a very young and very nervous and shy girl. Kurt didn't catch what song she told she would be singing, but currently she isn't singing anything. She's closing and opening her mouth like a fish, but nothing sensible comes out. The lyrics aren't in her mind anymore, poor thing. A word now and then is pronounced, but not enough to be able to call it a song or an audition. To help the viewers understand which song it is, the producer's are playing an instrumental version of the song on top of the performance, as the auditions usually are a cappella.

Then Kurt hears a tender, soft, low, male voice singing snippets of the lyrics as well. It's beautiful! He startles when he realizes it's the boy sitting next to him, and his head automatically snaps to face the boy. Blaine is starring at the TV, but somehow Kurt gets the impression he isn't actually watching it.

_You think I'm pretty without any make-up on  
__You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong  
__I know you get me so I let my walls come down, down  
__Before you met me I was alright  
__But things were kinda heavy you brought me to life_

* * *

Lyrics are from Katy Perry's _Teenage Dream_._  
_


	14. He ain't heavy

**AN: I'm sorry for the late update, but I hurt my arm and it took time to heal properly. It took some time before I could spend any valuable time in front of my laptop and do any typing, so hence the delay.**

**Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing and favoriting my story - it's really appreciated! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well, it's a bit of a twist from the pace so far in the story, but for me it is needed to show more of Kurt.**

**Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing from Glee, and am humble to borrow their characters to play with.**

* * *

Breakfast isn't particularly appealing today, and he keeps poking in it with his fork. His stomach feels heavy and queasy, and the food takes forever to chew. There are both pancakes, bacon, boiled eggs, toast, jam, cereal and fruit on the table. Sure, he's been able to swallow down three pancakes with bacon, and a banana because his brother always nags him about eating fruit and being healthy. But that's quite a modest breakfast for him.

"What's on your mind, honey?"

"I'm just nervous, mom."

"Oh Finn, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know Kurt, he's your brother, you talk all the time, this doesn't have to be any different," Carole says, trying to soothe her son. She can see the nerves and uncertainty radiate off of him, but she also knows he wants to do the right thing and show his brother some support. She knows he doesn't understand how he can help, though, and she can't blame him. How do you reach out to a person who has closed in on himself and avoid people? How do you reach out to a still fairly new family member who isn't the same person any more? How do you reach out to a person who rejects all kinds of help?

"But he's in a hospital, mom," Finn sighs with big eyes. Even though Carole is a nurse, and Finn has been at her work place several times, he's never gotten used to the hospital. Maybe he's been scared from the traumatic stories Carole has told from her position in the ER, or maybe he's just a sensitive boy. She knows he hates the particular smells of hospital.

Carole sits down on the chair opposite of Finn, and she gently takes his hand, removing the napkin he's fiddling with.

"Finn, listen to me." She waits until he's looking in her eyes and nodding to show he's paying attention.

"Yes, Kurt is in a hospital, but this isn't a regular hospital. Those who are there are mostly scarred on their souls and minds. You won't see any blood, needles, IVs, or damaged bodies. They've healed physically before they are transferred to the psychiatric ward."

Carole can see Finn's shoulders relax, and his hand in hers seems less tense as well, so she continues to explain and prepare him for what he'll see.

"You remember Burt telling about his visit?"

Finn nods again, still looking his mother in her eyes.

"Kurt has bandages on his wrists after what he did, but as Burt said you probably won't see them. Kurt is scared and ashamed, and does his best to cover up the visible signs of his defeat and weakness. You know how proud and strong he was, and I'm sure he still longs to be that person, so this is hard for him. Don't mention the bandages or damages, and you'll both be fine. OK?"

She gives him a stern look, and although her son has paled a bit, he still nods, swallowing a dry lump in his throat.

"Both the patients and the staff are wearing their normal clothes, and there's a nice room for visitors to sit and talk in a big coach. You won't think you are in a hospital, think about it as visiting your brother while he's away on some kind of a camp. With some more security than what's usual." Carole chuckles at her last sentence, but stops as she notices Finn's eyes widen.

"Security?"

"The doors are locked, but ring the bell and tell them your name, and you'll be let in. They don't allow surprise visitors, that's all."

Carole doesn't elaborate on the reasons for strict security in the psychiatric emergency ward. Kurt isn't categorized as so fragile or unstable he'll try to run away, but he's still too vulnerable to be allowed to go out alone. Burt calls the ward at least twice a day to check up on his son, so they are fully updated on his recovery. Burt has also been there to visit, but Kurt's doctor had recommended not visiting him too often. That way Kurt will have time to heal and reflect on his own, with the guidance from the staff, of course. Carole is glad Kurt has been allowed a visit from his brother, though. She is convinced it's healthy for Kurt to meet friends and family members who aren't worried and petrified in the same way as a parent obviously is.

"Do you want some more breakfast?"

Finn smiles goofily.

"Yeah, maybe one more pancake," he says, and helps himself to two more and a generous serving of bacon.

"Are you bringing anything with you to Kurt?" Carole asks, honestly curious if her son is aware of the tradition to bring something when visiting someone in a hospital. Maybe some snacks, something to read, or a teddy bear. She knows about the flowers New Directions had sent earlier.

"Yeah," Finn grins proudly. "I'm bringing Puck!"

Carole tries to cover up her surprise with a cough and a hand in front of her mouth.

"You're bringing Puck?"

"Yup." It doesn't seem like Finn sees the need to explain himself, so Carole prods him with her mom-eyes. Finn sighs.

"You know that show on TV, where they answer a bunch of questions and win a lot of money?"

Carole isn't quite sure which one Finn is referring to, there are so many shows like that, but encourages him to continue, hoping she'll catch up with him sooner rather than later.

"If they don't know the answer to a question, they can get some help. So I thought, instead of calling a friend, I am bringing a friend to help me out. Kurt always asks questions who confuse me…"

Carole smiles fondly at her son. He really is one of a kind; however you want to interpret that.

"OK, I'll call the ward and let them know to expect two visitors, then. But if Kurt shows any signs of being uncomfortable around Puck, he has to wait in the car, you understand?"

Finn nods, but frowns. As if anyone could be uncomfortable around Puck, or not want him as a visitor. Carole can figuratively hear Finn thinking "dude…", and shakes her head amused.

* * *

It's an hour long car ride to the ward where Kurt is admitted, but time flies for Finn and Puck as they plan an all-nighter of video games with the rest of the guys in New Directions.

Finn hasn't been in the city of Bellefontaine before, but Burt has given him pretty neat driving instructions, even with a map of the hospital area and a big X marked where he can park to be as close as possible to Kurt's building.

"Dude, why isn't he in some hospital in Lima?" Puck asks as they arrive the big hospital area, and Finn has to concentrate to navigate around, willing Burt's map to look more like the narrow speed-bumped streets he is crossing.

"Mom said they have some kind of expertise here, you know? He could stay in Lima, but then he'd be stuck with all kinds of grown-ups and old people. Here it's only kids our age, so they thought it would be easier for Kurt to be here."

"Makes sense. So, it's like he's in some camp or something, but for loonies?"

"Yeah!" Finn grins, impressed by Puck using the same words his mother had used to describe it.

They lock the car after feeding the meter, and heads for the building Burt had described to Finn. It isn't difficult to find, as there are a lot of signs pointing to the different departments and sections of the hospital area.

Finn pushes the door bell, and after a minute a young man's voice responds.

"Uh, hi? It's Finn and Puck, we're here to see Kurt. Kurt Hummel," he adds, in case not everybody knows who his brother is.

"Take the stairs up one floor, and I'll meet you there," the friendly voice says, and is then replaced by a buzzing sound. Puck quickly yanks open the door, gesticulating for Finn to enter.

Finn turns around before he's through the door frame.

"It's a bit freaky," he says with a sincerity and humbleness he doesn't show his friend too often.

"It's cool, Hudson, maybe they've drugged him and he's completely harmless," Puck grins.

Finn stares at him with big, worried eyes.

"No way? Do you think so?"

"How should I know, dude? Let's go upstairs and find out." Puck pats his back, and Finn stumbles forward.

The door is slightly opened when they have climbed up the stairs, and a man in his early thirties greets them when he spots them.

"You are here for Kurt, boys?"

They nod their agreement, and Puck is grounded enough to lift his hand in greeting and stating his name. Finn is quiet, though.

"I'm Thomas, and I'm his main contact person during daytime. Follow me, and I'll show you to him."

Thomas leads the two boys through a second door, where he swipes a card and dials a security code. Then they walk down a long hallway. In the end, it turns to the right, with a lot of doors along it. Straight ahead leads to a big room.

"That's the bedrooms and bathrooms over there," Thomas says pointing to the row of doors, "but you can talk with Kurt in the conference room, it's more comfortable and spacious."

The boys don't answer, but just follow after him while their eyes scan their surroundings. Thomas goes straight ahead, and brings the boys into a big common room.

"In this room we eat, we have morning meetings, group conversations, watch TV, play games, talk, and just hang out when there's not any other activities scheduled in other rooms. Because it's the weekend, there isn't any program today, so some of the other kids are in their rooms sleeping or reading, and a couple of them went outside for errands. So take your time, guys, nothing is rushing you today."

"Thanks man," Finn says, while watching an Asian girl knitting and a really skinny girl starring at the ceiling.

Thomas stops in front of a door, and knocks twice before opening it.

"Kurt, your guests are here," he says smilingly, and steps out to let the boys in.

Finn steps clumsily over the threshold, and spots Kurt sitting under a thick blanket in the end of a couch.

"Hey bro. I brought Puck, do you mind?"

Kurt slowly lifts his head, and gives him a semi smile.

"It's fine," he says, shrugging slightly.

"Cool," Finn smiles as honest as he can, and tugs Puck with him into the room. They keep standing in the middle of the room for a moment, before Puck exclaims "nice couch, Hummel," and dives to sit in the other end of it. He gives Finn a pointed look, making him sit down between the two boys. It's a big couch, with seats for five, so there's plenty of room for them.

There's an awkward silence in the room.

"Do you want coffee or something?" Kurt asks, obviously remembering his hosting manners.

"Nah man, it's fine, we bought supplies in a gas station," Finn says, pointing at a plastic bag his brother obviously must have overlooked. Figuring it's about time to add some fuel to their stomachs, he hands Puck his Coke, before taking a sip of his own.

"You want, little brother?"

Kurt shakes his head carefully, smiling timidly.

"I bought diet coke. You always drink diet coke, I remember you telling about your hips," Finn says, hoping he hadn't misunderstood Kurt's health freak ramblings.

"Oh. Well. OK. Thank you," Kurt says, and Finn throws him the bottle. It lands on the floor.

"Gee, I think I'll let it stand here on the table for a while before I open it," Kurt snarks, and Finn laughs. That's his brother!

Finn rummages in the bag, and pulls out a bag of chips. He opens it, and sets it on the table. The last thing he brings out from the bag is a smaller package with baby carrots.

"I thought maybe you'd like those," he says guardedly, because Kurt is watching him with intense eyes and a tilted head. But then his baby brother smiles, and takes a baby carrot, so Finn is pleased.

"Carole said it's like you're in some kind of camp," Finn blurts out. "It looks so normal here."

Oh, and now Kurt is giving him that look with narrow eyes and a frown between them, as if Finn has done something really weird, or utterly stupid.

"What did you expect?"

"I dunno. All rounded corners and no sharp edges, padded rooms and soft cushions everywhere, lunatics with gags and straight strap jackets with your arms tied on your back… Lobotomy, electric shocks, shots, and pills. I dunno, this is new to me," Finn shrugs, deciding to use no filter in his descriptions. Kurt is watching him with an amused smile.

"I get it," he finally says. "I didn't know what waited me either. I guess we all have different expectations and knowledge. I don't think I'd learned anything about mental institutions before I found myself in one."

Finn glares at Kurt. That's the longest monologue his brother has given in several weeks, maybe months. It's good to hear his usually eloquent and quite verbal brother say more than a couple of words.

"Isn't _Gothika_ about a mental institution? You know, the movie with that Berry chick?" Puck asks.

"Rachel?"

Kurt sighs, but Finn can hear it's good natured.

"Halle Berry, you idiot," he drawls. "And yes, I guess she's in some psychiatric ward, but I haven't heard anyone here talk about ghosts. Although Yosef talks an awful lot about God, so who knows."

Finn and Puck burst out in honest laughter, they are well familiar with Kurt's stance on religion, and Finn is glad to see Kurt relax more

Kurt unwraps the blanket he was covered in, and stretches his legs. A cold shiver runs down his spine, and he isn't able to hide it from his visitors.

"Do you have a cold?" Finn asks concerned. It's easier to treat than a depression, though, so Finn almost hopes his brother will say yes. Then Finn will know how to help him, at least a little.

"I have trouble sleeping, and I freeze when I'm tired.

"You still have nightmares?"

Kurt nods, and Finn realizes how dull and dry Kurt's eyes are, with dark circles around them.

"Can't they give you some of those sleeping pills?" he suggest hopefully.

"They make the nightmares worse," Kurt answers, and Finn can feel an alien ache in his heart. His brother is really fucked up.

"Jack Daniels," Puck grins. "Always makes me sleep like a baby." Kurt simply snorts, before asking about updates on the ways and lives of New Direction.

So the boys tell him about preparations for Sectionals, which is next weekend. They'll probably start thinking about a set list tomorrow. Or Tuesday

"We didn't know how long you'll be here, Hummel, so we had to find a twelfth member. Lauren is smoking hot, so much more than just a woman. No offence, princess, we don't _want_ to replace you, and I'd tap you if I swung that way. But I'm glad we got Lauren," Puck drools.

"Puck!" Finn exclaims annoyed. "Bro code, OK? We don't tap each other's siblings. Grose."

Puck grins, and winks at Kurt.

"Sorry man, bros before hoes."

"I honestly don't know if I should be offended or disappointed."

"But seriously, Kurt, when are you coming back? Will you be able to join us for Sectionals?" Finn asks, and he's really concerned, the use of his brother's name is a sure indication of that.

"I quit Glee club, remember? Anyway, I don't know how long I'll be here."

"You can't quit on us. You sing more than you talk, music is your life, man. You are totally dreaming with Rachel about making it on Broadway.

"Dreams change, Finn."

"I just don't understand. You're always so happy when you sang, how can it suddenly not make you happy anymore?"

Finn doesn't understand why Kurt scoffs and rolls his eyes in that annoying way that clearly states that Kurt thinks Finn said something stupid, but Finn doesn't know what he said wrong.

"Just, sing in the shower or whatever. Don't stop doing things that used to make you happy, even though you are feeling unhappy with a lot of other things. You can have many emotions at the same time, you know, it's bad if everything is black for you. Don't you usually say black goes to anything? Well, see if singing can go with your blackness!"

And now Kurt is laughing and crying at the same time, and Finn doesn't really understand why, but maybe he's trying to have two emotions at the same time. If so, he's good at that. Finn hesitantly shoves closer to his brother on the couch, and pats his back.

"I love you, bro..." Finn has hardly finished his sentence, before a body has slung himself unto him in a bone crushing hug. He wraps his arms around his brother, holding him closer than he's ever done.

"I hate to interrupt the loving, guys, but we promised Burt and Carole to be back for dinner, so we should get going now," Puck says in for him an unusual apologetically tone of voice.

"I'll walk you to the door," Kurt offers, wiping his tears away.

When they step out to the common's room, Thomas gets up to unlock the door for the two boys. He waits patiently while they bid farewell.

Finn is shifting from one foot to the other; he needs to ask Kurt something.

"Do they treat you right here?"

"Finn, I'm among well educated medical staff, I should be confident in getting the right treatment."

"No, I mean, are people treating you right, even though you're g.."

"Finn!"

"But I need to know that no one's giving you trouble just because you dig g…"

"FINN!"

Finn realizes Puck, who's standing behind Kurt, is making frantic kill it-movements with his hand over his throat, but he doesn't understand why. It's the most important thing he can ask Kurt today.

"Kurt, I really need to know," he pleads.

"I don't want to talk about _that_," Kurt hisses. "Give my love to dad and Carole, thank you for visiting me, I appreciate it, really," he continues, and Finn knows from experience that tone means their conversation is over. He pats his brother's back twice and is ready to leave. Puck steps up in front of Kurt, and gives him an awkward hug while whispering something to him.

Thomas has opened the door, and as Finn is about to step outside, a curly haired guy around his own age enters. Finn notices how the boy's eyes lands on the hugging Puck and Kurt, and Finn clenches his fists, ready to protect his brother if the stranger says anything anti-gay. But he just glances quickly on the two, before continuing down the hallway. Finn relaxes his hands, and then he and Puck leave.

* * *

Finn is silent in the driver's seat, and doesn't make any effort to put the key in the ignition.

"You OK?"

Finn isn't able to answer immediately. The words choke him, they are in wrong order, and he doesn't know how to express himself. Despite his bad ass attitude and some of their bigger fights, Puck is an awesome friend who sometimes just knows when he needs to shut up and wait for Finn to figure things out.

"He's really sick," Finn whispers eventually. "He is wearing sweatpants. Kurt never wears sweatpants among people; I don't think I've even seen him wearing it back home. He doesn't sing, he doesn't bitch, man he hardly talks at all and his voice seems so off. He doesn't wave his arm around speaking with his entire body, like he used to. It's as if he doesn't care about anything anymore. He's gone, Puck. Kurt's gone!"

Tears fall down his cheeks.

"It's as if he managed to kill himself anyway. His soul is dead, and we're left with his body and a stupid substitute pretending to be Kurt."

Finn is shaking from his sobs, and he leans over the steering wheel to hide away how scared and vulnerable he feels. Puck lays a hand on his shoulder, resting it there, not saying anything, but letting Finn cry.

"You hugged him," Finn asks confused. "What did you say to him?"

"I just told him to let us know if any homophobes were giving him trouble."

"Man, that's what I was trying to when you interrupted me," Finn exclaims hurt, bolting up. Why did Puck interject in his brotherly responsibilities?

"Yeah, but Kurt obviously didn't want to talk about it in front of others. I guess he's not out of that closet-thing."

"What? But why would he do that? He's so gay at school, how can he stop being that now?"

"Dude, don't you understand? After all the shit that went down in school, maybe he wants to protect himself and get a new start in a strange place?"

Finn swallows, realizing what Puck says makes sense. He leans over the steering wheel again to hide away his tears. When Finn has gained control over his tears again, he leans back in the driver's seat.

"I'll drive back home, OK?" Puck says.

Without any more words, they change seats, and drive back to the Hudmel residence.

* * *

Thomas locks the door behind Finn and Puck, and Kurt is planning to go to his room for some rest. Blaine is walking in front of him, but has slowed his pace. Kurt catches up with him after five-six steps.

"Hey Kurt" Blaine says softly, almost shyly.

"Hi Blaine," Kurt whispers, feeling tired, but not wanting to discourage the boy.

"So, this may seem a bit presumptuous, but I've been a good boy doing my mandatory outing," Blaine says self mockingly, rolling his eyes.

"You have earned yourself a gold star, then," Kurt quips, but wondering where that came from.

"Ah, but you see," Blaine chuckles, "this is actually my golden star," he whispers conniving, holding up two cups of coffee. He offers one of them to Kurt.

"And what have I done to earn a caffeine star?" Kurt asks, tilting his head and looking curiously at Blaine. It's not as if he doesn't appreciate the gesture. He just doesn't understand it. Blaine seems to be thinking about an answer, which confuses Kurt even more. What had the boy been thinking when he bough him coffee? Kurt takes a sip from the styrofoam cup, and yes, it is his coffee order, just like Blaine gave him the day before.

"You let me hide in your room yesterday," Blaine smiles triumphantly.

"So I should start charging an entry fee," Kurt mumbles amused to himself, but Blaine hears him and laughs.

"What did your visitors pay, then? I assume those boys leaving when I came back were here for you?"

"Ah, yes, they came to visit. It was nice; they stayed for almost two hours. I got a diet coke and mini carrots."

Both boys chuckle.

"You're lucky to get visitors; it must be nice to have people caring so much about you."

It makes Kurt think. He realizes he hasn't seen any of the other patients getting any visits. Of course, he's spent a lot of time in his room, and they may have thrown big parties in the common's room without his knowledge. He doesn't know if Blaine and the others who go out on their own meet people. But at least Kurt has had visits two of the six days he's been here, even though he knows doctor Whimchester is restricting it for some healing reason Kurt really doesn't understand.

"My dad was here the other day, and today you saw my step brother and ummm…" Kurt doesn't know how to explain Puck. Former bully, aka former choir colleague, aka step brother's (aka former crush) best friend.

"Boyfriend?" Blaine says with ease in his voice, and Kurt stops dead, feeling his blood drop to his feet. The syrofoam cup is spiralling around itself on the floor, and the coffee is slowly seeping into Kurt's socks.

"No!" is Kurt's choked and instant response.

"Gosh, Kurt, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Blaine isn't sure what he didn't mean to, because he doesn't know what triggered Kurt's reaction. Surprise, anger, fear, shame, sorrow?

Blaine moves to stand closer in front of Kurt, not even noticing the coffee he's stepping in. He bends his knees, trying to look into Kurt's downcast eyes.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I just saw your embrace when I passed the three of you, and he whispered something to you. I really am sorry. My gaydar went all excited when I talked to you that first time, but it's been wrong before, and I shouldn't have assumed. Kurt, I'm really sorry I upset you."

Blaine is rambling and pleading, he knows it, but he can't stand to see the look on Kurt's face. He looks so fragile, so hurt, so shocked, so broken. Maybe Blaine's gaydar had been wrong, or maybe Kurt still was in the closet. Anyway, Blaine shouldn't have assumed and acted on it. He should have known better than to follow up on brief first impressions. He knows perfectly well how misleading and utterly false they can be.

"G-g-gaydar?" Kurt stutters. He still doesn't move, but he has lifted his eyes, almost meeting Blaine's. There's something new in them. Blaine isn't quite sure, but it can be relief, hope even.

"Yes, gaydar," Blaine says, trying to smile reassuringly. He may not know which way Kurt swings, but he's quite certain he isn't a homophobe who will trash him in the hallway after Blaine's come out to him. "I may not wear a t-shirt with big letters explaining how much I like boys, and I know I dodge a lot of people's stereotypes and prejudices. But I'm one hundred per cent gay."

Kurt doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and Blaine waits expectantly, trying to give the boy space and time to respond. He's desperate to know if anything's changed between them, or if they can continue with the sort of camaraderie they've developed these few days.

Blaine counts slowly to one hundred. If Kurt hasn't said anything by then, he'll let him be, and find Matthew to get utensils to clean the coffee mess on the floor.

_94… 95… 96… 97…_

"Me too," Kurt whispers, and slowly lifts his head towards Blaine. "I'm gay."

The words still rush into Blaine's eardrums as Kurt bolts off, leaving Blaine dazzled behind.

* * *

**AN: Bellefontaine is an actual city, about an hour from Lima, or at least according to Google Maps it is. I just love the name of the place, its French sounding name so suitable for Kurt, and decided to place my psychiatric ward there.**


	15. Confidentiality

**AN: I know it isn't much Kurt in this chapter, but I never intended this story to be a Kurt POV-thing. I also know some of you have wanted to get to know more about Blaine, so hopefully you'll be pleased with this chapter. I also know some of you were glad to see the boys finally open up and come out to each other in last chapter - but honestly, things were never supposed to be that easy, this is a story of struggles.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who's reading, favouriting, subscribing, reviewing and otherwise paying attention to my story. This isn't easy for me to write, so I appreciate all of your patience when I need time to formulate everything. English is not my mother tongue either, so sometimes things are more difficult to say than they should.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Kurt, Blaine or Bellefontaine.**

* * *

Kurt cries silently under the blankets of his bed. Even his head is covered. He feels drained, confused, and scared.

He didn't expect Blaine to be gay. He wasn't prepared for Blaine to come out to him like that. He hasn't even considered it a plausible option while he's gotten to know the boy. OK, there have been moments where he thought the boy was intriguing, and maybe he was slightly attracted to him. But Blaine being gay was never a possibility in Kurt's mind. A crazy fantasy during a weak moment, perhaps, but not a thought he's honestly entertained.

Apparently Blaine's gaydar had gone off when they first met, while Kurt's has been as silent as a fire alarm in a glacier on the North Pole. In all fairness, Kurt has to admit his gaydar is slightly unpractised. Maybe it's underdeveloped, even. When he crushed hard and fatal on Finn, he knew the boy was straight, so no point in listening for the gaydar then. With Sam, he thought his gaydar had done a little twinkling, but hey, sometimes wishful thinking can get you at least so far. Kurt's gaydar never went off when he met Rachel's dads, but that is completely understandable, Kurt thinks. First and foremost, why should it when he already knew they were very gay? And secondly, he didn't think about them in any other way than as parents, and maybe a gaydar was supposed to be more of a "potential date-alert" than a gay-lert?

Of course his gaydar is under stimulated. For all he knows, it can be out of order. Kurt is the only open gay guy at his high school. Santana and Brittany are a bit dodgy, but at least he doesn't recognize them as allies. Statistically, there are several gay students still in the closet at McKinley. Evidently, there is at least one closeted guy at school. And Kurt's gaydar never went off around him, not even when he forced his lips on Kurt and kissed him.

Kurt sobs loudly as the memory of Karofsky in the locker room swirls around in front of his eyes. He feels cold and nauseous, and unconsciously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

The last gay guy he met was a homophobe who threatened to kill him. He's the cause of Kurt's desperation, and triggered Kurt's effort at a finale solution to get out of his misery. And now Blaine tells him he's gay, and Kurt isn't even certain Blaine meant to come out to him, or if it was a slip of the tongue after he saw him with Puck. They were alone in the hallway when Blaine told him, so he doesn't seem very out and proud about it. Didn't he even say something about dodging people and hiding it? Kurt is so tired, and he doesn't want to know other people's secrets, he doesn't have the strength to carry it for them. His track record with closeted gays isn't exactly promising either. Can he trust Blaine? How can he know he won't end up being just another person who hurts Kurt? Kurt is exhausted, and right now he hasn't got any energy for complicated.

The scariest part is that Blaine now knows Kurt's gay as well. Kurt was so stupid to come out to him, but he was surprised and didn't think enough before he confirmed it. A part of him had been shocked; another part of him had been relieved to know he wasn't alone. But now that he's had a chance to second guess his actions, he's just scared. Blaine knows something essential about him, something which is easily used against Kurt, and that gives Blaine a lot of power over him. That means Kurt isn't safe anymore. Not for the first time, Kurt regrets his failed suicide attempt. He wishes he had succeeded, so badly.

Eventually, Kurt cries himself to sleep. When Thomas comes by to remind him about dinner, he doesn't even stir, so Thomas lets him be. He sure needs it after several nights with poor sleep.

* * *

To say that Blaine was surprised when Kurt ran away is the least. Blaine doesn't quite know what he'd expected. He hadn't planned to bring up the topic with Kurt, but when he saw him hugging the fairly good looking guy, it was as if Blaine's filter blew away. He jumped to conclusions, and ended up being rude and insulting in some way. Blaine doesn't understand what happened. But he easily realizes this is a difficult topic for Kurt. Blaine just wanted to talk with him over a cup of coffee. When Kurt had seemed unsure how to label the guy, Blaine had just assumed he was hesitant to come out. Therefore Blaine wanted to show he was more than fine with Kurt telling him he has a boyfriend. And now he has somehow screwed up. Kurt confirmed he's gay, but it was obvious difficult and not something he wanted to talk more about. Blaine has an uneasy feeling of having pushed Kurt out of the closet, and it pains him.

Blaine throws his coffee cup in the trash, and leaves his room. Dinner is served in 20 minutes, so he might as well go to the common room and skim through the newspapers while he waits for the food.

He picks up one of the local papers. It's not as if he has any connection to Bellefontaine or knows this place at all, so honestly he has no interest in knowing what's going on with the local politics and news. But his fingers and eyes need something to do. And who knows, maybe he'll find adds for something happening the next days he can attend for his daily outings. Concerts, a movie, the theatre, a lecture – something that can help him go outside, but without having to plan anything himself. Doctor Whimchester is pretty flexible. He doesn't care what Blaine does, as long as he goes outside every day. Of course they talk and analyse and digest his outing afterwards, so the doc cares for it to help Blaine. But Blaine is free to make his own choices; he isn't forced to do anything specific. Blaine is quite glad for that fact; it makes him feel freer and a bit in control of himself. And this is exactly what the psychiatrist wants to achieve. Even if he hadn't been explained it, Blaine would have figured it out for himself.

He's actually quite smart when he isn't a failure. He's good at reading other people, understanding what they want, what they need, what they think. It's a trait that makes it easier for Blaine to aim for his best, so he can be the friend or son or student other people expect and need him to be. But with Kurt it's more difficult. Sometimes he thinks he can read him very well, and at other times it's like trying to decipher a book in Chinese you don't even know if you're holding upside down or not. It confuses Blaine, and makes him even more insecure. How is he supposed to act around the boy, when he doesn't know what the boy needs or wants? Blaine sighs loudly, and is startled when a soft hand lands on his right shoulder. He hadn't even noticed someone sitting down next to him.

"Rough day?" Jenny asks, tilting her head and watching him with concerned eyes.

"You could say that again," Blaine whispers sadly. Right before Kurt ran away, Blaine had seen his scared eyes, his hand covering his open mouth, biting down on his index finger, and it looked as if the boy was going to cry. Blaine had wanted nothing more than to run after him, but he had decided it was the wrong thing to do. Kurt ran away because of him, so he wouldn't chase him. He does want to apologize, though, so he hopes Kurt will come out from his room soon. Blaine needs to understand what he did to hurt the other boy.

He swallows heavily, trying to prevent himself from crying in front of the others. There's an unspoken rule not to ask each other about their problems and struggles. They talk about it if someone needs it and initiate the topic on their own, but they don't snoop in each others businesses. So Blaine knows Jenny won't ask, but he doesn't want to cry and make someone worry either.

The hand on his shoulder carefully moves down to his back, and rubs it slowly in smooth movements. Jenny rests her head on his shoulder to give some comfort, and Blaine puts his hand on top of the other hand she's softly patting on his thigh. It's so good to feel a little tenderness, to be close to someone like this, to be warmed by someone else's body heat. When all comes to all, Blaine is still just a little boy, trying to find his place in this world, but feeling so lonely and like such a misfit.

Dinner is a miserable affair. Kurt is nowhere to be seen. Blaine _knows_ how important the meals are, and how reluctant the staff is to let anyone miss them. If Kurt isn't here, he really can't be feeling good. Blaine carefully examines Thomas' facial expressions to see if he'll let anything slip, but he doesn't reveal anything, and no one mentions Kurt's absence.

Blaine quickly finishes his fruit salad they got for dessert, before he rushes down the corridor where their rooms are. He abruptly stops in front of Kurt's door. Each door has a window, so the staff can easily check on them during their night rounds, to see if someone's having trouble sleeping, doing something dangerous or for other reasons needs assistance. Blaine doesn't want to enter some Twilight starring zone, but he just needs to see if Kurt is alright.

He takes a deep breath, and takes the finale two steps to position himself close to the door. The room is dark, but eventually he recognizes the outline of Kurt's flowers on his nightstand. He moves his eyes to the left, towards the bed. His heart drops to the bottom of his stomach. The covers are spread out on almost the entire bed. It seems as if Kurt is laying face down. Blaine's eyes are adjusting to the slight light coming in through a slip in the curtains. He can identify the shape of a bent knee sticking out from under the covers, and lower down a foot is resting on top of the covers. He can't see Kurt's head, it's hidden, but part of his arms are visible, and it looks as if they are embracing the pillow he's sleeping on. Blaine smiles sadly. At least it seems as if the boy is getting some proper sleep, without nightmares. But Blaine dreads he's cried himself to sleep.

Blaine's shoulders slump heavily, and he walks further down to the end of the corridor, where his own room is. He decides to take a shower. Maybe it'll help clear his mind, make him feel better. Maybe he'll be able to wash away his guilt for hurting Kurt, he thinks solemnly.

Most of the rooms share two bathrooms in the hallway, but Blaine has his own, ensuite bathroom. The perk of being a long term patient. His room is bigger, and has more furniture enabling him to unpack and make it homey. It's unnerving, the thought of moving in and settle down, in a psychiatric ward. This is his fourth stay in almost two years, and this has been his room every time. There are eight rooms, and his is the only one of its kind. Blaine doesn't want the room to be familiar. He wishes he doesn't know which tile on the bathroom floor is tilted unevenly, making his toe hurt the seven first times he bumped into its sharp corner, until he learned to step over that particular tile. He wishes he doesn't know precisely how long he has to wait outside the shower cabinet, before the water pouring down through the old pipes has turned a nice temperature. He wishes he hasn't grown accustomed to the slight squeak the bed makes every time he turns around. He wishes he doesn't have the need to bring pictures and some important memorials to decorate his room. He wishes he doesn't think of it as _his_ room. He wishes he is strong and courageous enough to fight through his struggles and conquer his demons. He wishes he can be done with this, going back to be Plain Blaine. Not Broken Blaine, not Mental Blaine, not Failed Blaine. He just wants to be normal, spend some time with his friends, finish high school, start on the appropriate studies, and maybe dream a little about a future. Right now everything's far too clouded, he can't see any desired future, and isn't quite sure who he is anymore.

Blaine towels his unruly hair, before slipping into some comfortable jeans and a hoodie. He'd like to snuggle up in bed in his pyjamas, but they aren't allowed to attend any meals in such clothes, and Blaine still has to get supper. Usually he doesn't have any problem with that particular rule. He knows it is there to help them make an effort – get out of bed, get dressed, get into routines, have a rhythm throughout the day; not become zombie slobs who shuffle around in their nightgowns all day long. But right now Blaine wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and wallow in some self pity. He won't, though. Matthew expects him to eat supper, so of course he'll join them for the meal.

He sighs and drags his feet to his desk. If he can get his history paper done, he'll be a step closer finishing high school.

When Kurt doesn't show up for supper either, Blaine loses all patience. He inhales his food, and waits for Thomas to finish eating as well. Blaine knows the staff is there for their sake, so he could interrupt Thomas' meal if it was urgent. But they work long shifts, and need to eat as well. Besides, even though Blaine is feeling antsy and restless, the question he's desperate to get answered isn't that pressing in the bigger picture. So Blaine waits in his chair, hands folded in his lap to prevent them from running through his firmly styled hair. But his feet are twisting and shaking from anticipation. Jenny is sitting beside him, and he has spotted how she throws him a mix of curious and worried looks, so Blaine makes a number of not looking in her direction. He's not the one who needs any comfort or consolation, he just needs reassurance Kurt is OK.

Finally Thomas gets up from the table, bringing his dishes to the trolley. Blaine quickly gets up, copying his actions.

"Umm…" he begins, sidestepping awkwardly, twinning his fingers and desperately looking for the words.

"Do you want to talk with me?" Thomas asks softly, giving him a sincere smile.

"Yeah," Blaine exhales relieved. Even though Matthew is his contact person, anyone in the staff will help when needed. But Blaine still was worried Thomas would send him to Matthew immediately.

"Do you want us to go to the conference room?"

"Umm…" OK, so it's that kind of eloquent day, Blaine silently scolds himself. He doesn't think he'll need to talk with Thomas for a long time, but it's a bit private, so maybe they should be behind a closed door. "Please," he mumbles, nodding to emphasize his answer.

Thomas leads way and opens the door to the conference room, but stops to gesture for Blaine to walk in before him. Blaine tries not to think about the others still seated with their supper, with prime view to where they're going.

It's quite normal that someone needs to talk, and the room is frequently used during the day. Everyone knows the others are here to get better, and how important it is to talk to get better. Still Blaine feels put in the spotlight every time he needs this. He knows they will see him when he leaves the room again, and sometimes he wishes there were more privacy. No matter how you leave the room – cheerful and skipping or storming out in tears, there's always someone witnessing it. Luckily, they all have been both the witness and the witnessed, and you seldom get any kind of reaction. That's just some of the things that happen in the ward. You cry, you laugh, you explode in rage, you think, you ponder, you thrill. You do it on your own, you do it with the councillor and staff, and you do it together in the group meetings.

It takes time getting used to it, when you've been dealing with your inner demons alone. Suddenly you have people around you who accept and include you because they have their demons as well. You're never alone, there's always someone there for you. Sometimes you're even prevented from being alone, no matter how much you think you need the solitude. Still it's a bit awkward for Blaine, and even though he's been here as much as he has, it still feels too naked and intimidating. Whenever someone needs to use the conference room with someone in the staff, he tends to leave the common's room to give them some privacy when leaving.

Thomas turns over the sign showing the room is occupied, so they won't be interrupted by someone bursting in. He then sits down in the couch, on opposite end of where Blaine is, to give him some space.

"What's on your mind, Blaine?"

Blaine swallows. Matthew always gives him some time to sort out his thoughts and find the words he needs. During the times Blaine's talked with Thomas, he's learned that he has a different approach. He asks directly to get answers, he is more forward to make sure you don't dodge and avoid anything. Matthew can be silent for an entire conversation, letting you get to your realisations and revelations on your own. Thomas guides you to the same conclusions through his questions and comments. Blaine thinks he prefers Matthew because of that. Even though it takes longer time, it hurts less. Thomas makes him think and feel in a faster pace; facing him with emotions he isn't willing to touch upon yet. But sometimes a band-aid needs to be ripped off.

"Kurt," Blaine finally answers, truthfully.

"What about Kurt?" Thomas isn't threatening, he smiles friendly; he's just pushing a bit more than Matthew, making Blaine sometimes answering before he can completely form his sentences, before he can filter, sort and censure his thoughts.

"Is he OK?" Blaine blurts out, realizing it's a stupid question. Of course he isn't; no one is in the ward because they are overly _okey_.

"He's sleeping, and I let him sleep through the meals because he's had some rough nights."

Thomas isn't telling anything Blaine didn't already know, and Blaine's pretty sure Thomas knows Blaine already knew this.

"You know you can tell me anything, I won't break your confidentiality," Thomas says, subtly reminding Blaine he won't tell him anything about Kurt either.

Blaine nods. Swallows. He embraces his own legs, pulling them up to his chest.

"I hurt Kurt," he whispers to his own knees.

"What makes you think so?" Thomas asks, putting his feet on the table to show he's listening and has got all the time in the world for Blaine. Even though Blaine knows his shift ends half an hour after supper, and Margaret probably is waiting for him so she can be updated on Kurt before she takes over as contact person for the evening and night.

"I said something, then he said something, and then he ran away with tears in his eyes. I'm pretty damn sure I made him that upset," Blaine sighs, clutching at the fabric stretched over his knees. Great, now Blaine has tears in his eyes as well.

"But you didn't do it on purpose." It's more of a statement than a question.

"No!" Blaine's head jerks up, and his sincere, big eyes lock with Thomas'.

"So you don't have to be kicking yourself for this."

"But I don't want to do the same mistake again." A single tear falls down his cheek, but he stops it with his shoulder.

"I respect that. Were you talking about something specific when he had that reaction?"

Blaine nods.

"So then you know what to avoid the next time you talk. I've noticed you seem to have bonded a bit. Kurt doesn't talk much, but you make him open up."

"I think maybe I accidentally pushed him to open up more than he wanted to. How can I apologize without bringing it up?"

"Maybe you don't have to talk so much to make an apology? If this is something sensitive for him, maybe it's better to not make such a big fuss about it, and just act as you did before, unless he brings it up himself."

Blaine nods again. He's gotten a lot of food for thought.

Thomas removes his feet from the table, sensing Blaine is feeling much better.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what he told me?"

"No. He told _you_ something, I'm not going to force you to be disloyal and break the trust. If he had told you something I really need to know, I know you're smart enough to tell me immediately."

Blaine sighs loudly from relief, he doesn't have to out Kurt. Maybe Thomas already knows, and maybe he doesn't, but it's still something between Kurt and Thomas. Blaine hasn't interfered or destroyed anything.

"So, feeling better, kid?"

Blaine snorts. He's been enough in Bellefontaine to consider some of the staff his second family, but Thomas is more of a much older brother than a father figure. Matthew is more of a grandfather, though.

"Kid is feeling better," he chuckles. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank us, you know that.

"Yeah, well… Thanks anyway. I know your shift…" Blaine starts carefully.

"Now shush it, kid. If I don't think about this as work, neither should you." Thomas smiles and winks at him, and Blaine shakes his head laughingly.

"OK, I won't."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go talk with Margaret. I'll try convincing her to make you guys some hot chocolate for whatever movie you decide to watch later, it's still weekend after all." Thomas gently pats him on the back before they leave the room, and turns the sign on the door around to show it is now vacant.

Later that evening, Blaine finds himself sitting in a couch between Yosef and Jenny. Most of the patients and staff are gathered to watch a movie. Thomas made good of his promise, and Margaret has made hot chocolate for everyone. She even got out a bag of mini marshmallows for them. Blaine is feeling slightly better. Kurt still hasn't left his room, and Blaine still craves to see him, talk with him. But Thomas has managed to make him feel it'll turn out fine. Blaine clings to that hope, and lets his attention drown in the comedy the others have agreed on.


	16. The Eagle

**AN: I expect some may react negatively to the texts - because I choose to write them in regular English, and not use any shortened text-language, slang, or whatever. I do that mainly because English is not my mother tongue, so I feel quite uncomfortable trying to write that kind of English - I want you to understand the texts. Another reason is I always write my own texts with proper and correct grammar, because it's important for me to master my language and use it respectfully. I think Kurt would think much the same way, so his texts are therefore impeccable (or as good as I can write them) in my fiction.**

**I would also like to remind the readers that if you feel I'm bashing out on the church or religion in this chapter, that is not my intention. Neither do I intend to paint a generalized picture of a very complex reality. I want to show you how Kurt is feeling, and how he reacts to people around him - and give you a glimpse of how people around him react to going through struggles like that. We all cope in different ways.  
**

**Thank you for reading, reviewing and sharing - it is appreciated!  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, but appreciate being able to play around with some of the characters.**

* * *

Kurt feels as if he's been sleeping forever when he wakes up. He can't remember having any nightmares, but he doesn't feel completely rested either. Something must have woken him up, 'cause he'd like to sleep even more. But his body and head feels heavy, and the world turns around in slow motion, in the same way it does when you've slept too long on a lazy Sunday. His mouth is dry, and he's actually starving. It's an interesting feeling; Kurt can't remember having felt hungry for something like half an eternity.

He grabs for his phone. He put it on silence yesterday, to make sure it wouldn't disturb him. It's only six AM, but a couple of new messages surprise him. His phone is mostly left alone during his days here, and it hasn't been used since his texting with Blaine before the weekend.

The thought of Blaine makes his heart ache, and it feels as if he all of a sudden is hyper sensitive to everything around him, and his dry and swollen eyes bother him more than they did three minutes ago. What will happen today?

Kurt tries to push the dread away, and opens the texts to read them.

_Thanks for letting us visit, little brother. I hope you'll feel better and come home soon, but give me a heads up so I can clean our room first. Finn_

Kurt almost laughs out loud at that text. He shouldn't be surprised. Finn and he are still sharing a room in the basement. It's OK, but they could always need some more space, and especially some more privacy. Of course Finn would spread all of his belongings around, even on Kurt's half of the basement.

Then Kurt remembers the plans his family had, and he has to fight down the big lump choking up his throat. His father and Carole were planning to get married, the date had been set, but Burt told him when he came to visit they had chosen to postpone it and focus on Kurt for now. They had also been looking to buy a bigger house, but as far as Kurt knew they hadn't bought any yet. Carole and Finn had sold theirs and moved in with the Hummel's not long ago, and the crowdedness was supposed to be temporarily.

Kurt shakes off his concern for his new family, and reads the next text.

_Remember what I said, Kurt. I know people. We can fix anything. Or ANYONE. Puck_

Kurt snorts at that one. He wonders how long Puck will be able to put up his bad boy charade. He can't wait to see Puck grow up, and suspects in less than five years he'll be a confident, caring, kind hearted, charming man. He has to work on some self esteem issues, and realize he's good enough without pulling all that bad ass crap. Kurt can easily imagine Puck as a loving, maybe a bit overprotecting, but still playful and generous father. If not to Beth, then he'll meet a girl, and some day they'll be a family together.

Kurt wonders if he'll know Puck then. He wonders what'll happen after high school. He wonders what will happen with his strange group of friends if principal Figgins' threat of shutting down Glee club falls through. He wonders if life can be better if he makes it to New York next year. He wonders if he'll be alive to see his friends graduate in six months.

_Hi boo. I miss you. I think I'm gonna need you tomorrow. You know how Rachel gets when Sectionals draws closer. Mercedes_

_Kurt, I need to know if we have your voice for our arrangements for Sectionals, I need to bear that in mind when I pick our songs. Rachel_

_P.S. I of course hope you're feeling better. ¤RB¤_

Kurt sighs at Rachel's self centred focus, but a part of him can understand her. She's passionate, and he can respect someone with ambitions and goals. He just doesn't want to be a stepping stone in other people's paths. Why can't see realize he's quit and isn't coming back?

After sending his four friends some appropriate answers, he tucks his phone away, and cuddle up in his bed among the pillows and covers. It's still two and a half hour until breakfast, so it would be preferable to kill off some of that time with sleep.

Kurt keeps starring at the ceiling for a full ten minutes, before he realizes sleep won't conquer him for now. He isn't keen on just laying down and let his thoughts carry away either. That's usually never a good solution. Hesitantly, he grabs the book he's borrowing from Blaine. It was a real struggle to get some reading done the last time he tried, but maybe today will be better. He shuffles the pillow to support him in a sitting position, and leans back with the book secured in his hands.

* * *

The vibrations alerting Kurt about an incoming text are abruptly interrupted as his phone runs out of battery and shuts down. Kurt adds a bookmark to the _Discworld_ pocket, and is pleased to see he's been able to finish more than fifty pages, and he actually remembers what he read. The book is entertaining and an easy read so far, and he has to admit time flies with his eyes glued between the covers of the book. With the book securely positioned on his nightstand – he would hate to see something happen to it, as it isn't his – he grabs his phone and heads for the staff room to get it recharged.

Margaret promises to keep an eye on the phone and make sure it's returned as soon as the battery is full, to Kurt's huge relief. He had promised Mercedes he'd be there for her throughout the day. He's reminded breakfast is one and a half hour away, so he decides to take a shower. However, before he's back to his room, he's being interrupted by his own curiousness. A loud ding alerts the arrival of the elevator. He turns around to see who are coming, and his heart stops when he sees Tim and Blaine step out.

Blaine must have been working out, Kurt muses, noticing his sweaty tee clinging to his defined chest and arms, and some unruly curls framing his glowing face. Kurt silently scolds his hormones for noticing these things. He's pretty sure it's not expected to ogle the boy he ran away from in a panic the day before. Said boy is watching him with a hesitant and nervous expression, and Kurt can't blame him.

"Good morning," Kurt whispers shyly.

It's almost comical to see how visibly Blaine relaxes by his greeting, and his eyes lights up. Kurt briefly wonders how Blaine reacted to his odd behaviour yesterday.

"Good morning to you, too. You're up early."

"I could say the same to you. I ran out of sleep," Kurt shrugs.

"An untimely phone call woke me up an hour ago," the other boy frowns.

"Aww, sucks," Kurt coos sympathetically.

He tries to find something to say, and there's an awkward silence between the two boys. Both stare at the floor, shuffling their feet, and considering going back to their room, but both have a need to try clearing up the air after yesterday.

"I've read several chapters of your book," Kurt finally says

"Yeah? What do you think about it?"

"It's good. Entertaining, funny, it's a nice distraction."

"Tell me about it," Blaine laughs humourlessly. He sighs. "I'm all sweaty and disgusting, and should get a shower. Are you having breakfast later?"

"I guess," Kurt answers confused. What's up, is Blaine trying to avoid him or does he want him to be there?

"Good. I'll see you then," he grins and runs off to his room, leaving Kurt feeling lighter somehow.

* * *

Kurt feels fresh and awake after the shower, a drastic change from how he felt once he woke up. He enters the common's room for breakfast with easy steps. He hasn't felt this rested in a long time. It's as if his body had a complete shut down after the emotional tumults yesterday, and after the reboot is working perfectly again.

The others are already seated around the large dining table. Kurt sits down on an empty chair between Thomas and Yosef. Blaine smiles to him from his chair opposite of him, between Jenny and Izabella.

"Good morning, Kurt, how are you feeling this morning?" Yosef asks with his broken English.

"Morning, Yosef. I'm fine, thanks, and you?" he answers politely and automatically. He's still trying to get used to spending so much time together with strangers. The meals are nothing like eating among strangers in the school cafeteria; this is more intrusive and intimate, more threatening and vulnerable. He feels huge expectations to participate in conversations and make friends. That's really not something Kurt is interested in.

Kurt pays careful attention to Blaine, however. He's anxious about the outcome of yesterday's discovery. Will his sexuality come up as a conversational topic? Will it be used against him?

During the breakfast, Jenny keeps pleading Blaine to send her this and that, and always asks if he needs something from her side of the table. She uses every opportunity to touch his arm, and smiles to him. A lot. Whenever Blaine says something, she laughs coyly. At first, Kurt is quite amused. If Blaine is gay, it should be evident he's not interested in the girl. But Blaine doesn't do anything but give her a small smile, answer her questions and keeping up the small talk. It saddens Kurt. It only proves what he thought Blaine had said yesterday, about him dodging and hiding his sexuality. Blaine's in the closet. And now Kurt knows, so Blaine will have to do whatever he can to make sure Kurt keeps it a secret and doesn't tell anyone. Kurt swallows down a heavy lump stuck in his throat with a glass of ice tea. How can he convince Blaine his secret is safe with him? And why does he have to carry everybody's gay secrets?

"Kurt, you look concerned, what is wrong?"

Kurt is interrupted from his worries by Yosef's voice. He shakes his head and plasters on a smile.

"I'm fine."

"Whenever I'm troubled, I turn to my God. I will pray for you, Kurt."

"I'm not religious, Yosef," he whispers, not interested in involving everybody in their discussion.

"You should turn to your saviour. He has always helped me and made me feel better." Yosef beams and Kurt swallows down some honest words. Why the hell is Yosef here, if his god can make him feel better?

"Religion is not for me," he repeats carefully.

"I don't understand America," Yosef looks puzzled. "Your president always says God bless the nation, but so many of you Americans have lost your faith. You should try to search for it again, you cannot be cured without it," Yosef says, completely convinced by his own belief.

"Excuse me," Kurt finally says through gritted teeth, pulls his chair back, and walks away. He manages to keep his tears back until he's securely behind his own door.

Shortly after, a knock on his door startles him.

"Hey Kurt, the nurse is here to remove the suture, is this a bad time?" Thomas asks.

"No, that's OK."

An elderly man enters with a first aid bag and a tall chair.

"Hello Kurt, may I see your wrists?"

Kurt sits up in bed, and holds out his arms, palms up.

"Wonderful, these look really great. They have healed perfectly, and don't seem sore or infected. Are you ready, may I remove the suture?"

Kurt simply nods. He's still fighting back tears from the confrontation during breakfast.

"I promise it won't hurt much," the nurse assures him, probably noticing Kurt's almost-tears.

He takes a firm hold on Kurt's left hand, and uses a pair of tweezers and a sharp scissor to get a hold of the black thread. It doesn't really hurt; it's more of an annoying sensation, a tickling and a numb irritation.

"This may itch a little the next few days, so I'll leave a bottle of concentrated aloe vera for you. It'll sooth the itching, your skin might get softer, but it's otherwise harmless and won't do any harm to you or your skin.

The nurse finishes his job, and leaves Kurt alone with Thomas.

"You have an appointment with doctor Whimchester in ten minutes, so you might want to get ready for that," he informs him with a friendly voice.

Kurt nods again, and Thomas leaves as well. He opens the cap of the bottle and breathes in the scent of the lotion. It's barely there, a neutral and fresh smell. Kurt pours a small amount in his hand, and smears it over his wrists. It gives a nice cooling, numbing sensation. He wishes he could use the same stuff on his brain and heart.

* * *

"Talk to me about what happened during breakfast," doctor Whimchester prompts friendly. He's watching Kurt intently, and Kurt is wrapped in a blanket in the far end of the couch. Thomas sits with legs crisscrossed between them.

Kurt hesitates. How much should he say?

"I got upset by something someone said…"

"Kurt, you don't have to feel as if you rat out on somebody. No one will get in trouble, we just want to know what made you upset."

"I don't believe in God," Kurt starts. "I have some issues with religion…"

Neither Thomas nor doctor Whimchester say anything, but Thomas nods encouragingly for him to continue.

"You know I'm gay, and I've always gotten shit for it. God has never been any help to me, and the churches think I'm an abomination. Why should I lean on religion?"

"I heard Yosef mention something about faith during breakfast," Thomas adds to egg him on.

"Yeah, he thought I would be cured if I could find faith again. I know he was talking about my mental issues, but being gay has always been the cause for all my problems!" Kurt is talking louder and louder, faster and faster.

"It felt as if he wanted God to cure me from being gay, and it just hurt, god damn it, it really hurt to be told that the essence of me, the core of Kurt, should be cured and changed!" Kurt has kicked off the blanket and stood up, he's pacing the floor, yelling and running his hands through his hair. "I know Yosef didn't mean it like that, but it still hurts. Everything's wrong with me, and I just want to be normal…" Kurt sobs now, his hands wrapped around his torso.

"I don't want to be broken, I don't want to be scared," Kurt hiccups. He but falls down on the couch again.

"Kurt, you are struggling now, and I know it's a cliché, but it will get better. Don't aim for normal; aim for being yourself."

"But how can I be myself, when everybody beats me down for it?"

"Do you remember the task I gave you for the weekend?"

Kurt doesn't say anything, he doesn't want to think about how the doctor may be right, because that would mean Kurt has a reason to live.

"I told you to think about what and who makes you know you're loved."

Kurt nods to let him know he's listening.

"You had visitors yesterday," he says, showing he expects Kurt to elaborate on that. So Kurt talks about his brother and Puck, how protective they are of him now, Puck's promise when he left and the text afterwards. He talks about how both of them went from being tormentors to being friends, family, allies. He talks about his father and Carole, and it's as if a dam has burst, and Kurt is speaking more than he's done the last week all together. It's scary, but it's liberating as well.

Both the doctor and Thomas smile as Kurt gushes about his family.

"Always remember the small things," Thomas tells Kurt. "If life gets too rough, don't try to deal with all of life at once. You're allowed to show weakness without being seen as broken. Baby steps, Kurt, and focus on the certain things. You have a family who love you. Don't put all the religious homophobia on your shoulders."

"And I think normalcy always have been exaggerated," Whimchester chimes in.

"I used to think so too," Kurt whispers. "But the thrill of being extraordinary dissolves when the ordinary beats you for it."

"You don't have to be perfect in everybody's eyes. You just have to remember that you in fact _are_ perfect in somebody's eyes."

Kurt sniffs, and Thomas hands him a packet of paper towels from a drawer in the table.

"I think this is enough for now. You've already been through a lot of emotions and thinking today, and I can understand it's exhausting," the doctor says. "I'll see you again tomorrow."

"Lunch is in an hour, do you have anything you want to do? Go outside for some fresh air, play a board game?"

"I think I'll go to my room. I have some thinking to do," he says and wipes his eyes. Kurt feels drained, and just wants to curl up in bed.

On his pillow his phone is resting, however, so he turns it on to see if he's gotten any texts from Mercedes.

_SOS Kurt! You think Rachel has no more to give, and then she brings out a whole new level of crazy. She wants butterflies to fly out of our mouths when we back up her solos!_

_Should the audience bring nets to catch them or spray cans to kill them?_

_Boy, don't you think for even a second that we're listening to Rachel's insanity. Lauren threatened to sit on her until ND's done competing._

_Never. Who's Lauren?_

It kills Kurt that he's still curious about New Directions and eager for updates, and he shouldn't care about their changes and plans. He is not one of them, and will never be again either.

_Lauren Zizes, from the wrestling theme? She's in ND now. Ask Puck for more details ;)_

_Intriguing. _

They continue to text for a while, mostly on what's going on at McKinley. Kurt really hasn't got anything to tell from where he is. But eventually Mercedes has to put her phone away to do a biology test, so Kurt sends some texts with his father instead.

_Hey dad, how are everybody? How often have you been skipping your diet? I'm OK, it was good to see Finn and Puck. Kurt_

_Hi son. Don't you trust your old man? We're fine. Carole and I went to see a house, but we won't make any decision before you're back. It's your new home too. Anything I can do for you? You don't text too often, you know, so I know something's up..._

Kurt feels a sting in his heart, he should be better at keeping in touch with his father. But he really doesn't know what to say, so it's easier to say nothing at all.

_I know my father and food. Don't put everything on hold for me, I don't know when I'm coming back. I kind of need a favour, dad._

_The important thing is that you ARE coming back, and we are waiting with open arms. What do you need, kid?_

* * *

During lunch Kurt makes sure to sit as far away from Yosef as possible. He doesn't want a repeat of breakfast. Blaine is sitting on the other side of the table, and looks questioningly at him. Kurt smiles at him as he grabs the bottle of apple juice, hoping to reassure Blaine, whatever he's thinking about. Blaine smiles back, but Kurt notices the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

After lunch Thomas informs Kurt they will have a group session called creative therapy. Kurt wants to huff about it – it doesn't seem healthy to be creative when it comes to therapy. It should be proven and steady, not done by the try and err-method.

The group is in the same place they did arts and crafts on Thursday, but Melinda is responsible for the session this time. She pulls out all sorts of drawing and painting equipment, placing it on the middle of a long table they are gathered around. It feels a bit like being back in kindergarten.

Kurt sees neither Jenny nor Blaine there, and wonders what that means. Kurt has developed a need to have control of his surroundings to feel even a sliver of safety.

"I know we do a lot of talking here, so today I want you to express yourself in other ways. I want you to use these crayons, water colours, coal, pens, markers, scissors, glue, white paper, coloured paper – use whatever you think is suitable to picture your ambition, your dream, your wish, your future. I want you to look ahead and find something positive to aim for."

Kurt sighs. This _is_ a freaking kindergarten. What's next? Drawing his family as stick figures in front of their house, a big yellow smiling sun over the roof, and m-shaped birds flying around?

"When you're done, we'll present our masterpiece for the others," Melinda continues, and Kurt sighs again. He isn't comfortable sharing himself with strangers.

He stares at the items on the table, but no inspiration pops up. He moves his gaze to the windows. He thinks they are on fourth floor, and he has a decent view of the flat city. Is his future somewhere out there? Kurt shrugs. He can't picture anything new. He assumes he'll be discharged at some time, and go back to McKinley to fight further against his bullies until he can graduate in six months time. Then what? What does he want with his life? What kind of life is he longing for? Has he got any more dreams, or have they all been beaten out of him? Are his ambitions any bigger than to survive McKinley and Lima? Or is even that over-ambitious?

He thinks back to the last therapy session with doctor Whimchester. Kurt had said he doesn't want to be broken or scared anymore. He wants to be free, to be safe. Is that too much to ask for? Is it enough to ask for? Kurt hasn't got a clue how he'll get there. If he'll even ever get there.

Lyrics pops up in Kurt's mind and it surprises him. He hasn't thought about singing or music in a long time, but now there's a song grinding on his brain, refusing to let go of him. _Free as a bird, it's the next best thing to be. Free as a bird. Whatever happened to the life that we once knew? Always made me feel so free._

A biology project from middle school pops up in Kurt's mind as well. They had chosen an animal each, and done a short presentation on it. He remembers doing research on a bird that was said to symbolise freedom, control, power, pride and courage. He'd like to be that bird.

So Kurt draws an eagle, soaring across a thunderous sky on its widespread wings.

* * *

Dinner is an eventless affair. Both Blaine and Jenny are there, along with everybody else in the psychiatric ward. Kurt feels he can breathe just a little bit easier.

Yosef doesn't say anything to Kurt, and he has a silent, desperate hope someone has told Yosef to let it rest. Sarah and Sandy are chattering about something. Izabella is silent, but Kurt can't remember she's ever said anything, so she could be mute for all he knows. Jenny is trying to talk with Blaine, but gives up when the boy ignores her. It isn't difficult to notice how distant the boy is. His eyes aren't really focusing on anything, and they are red and puffy. Kurt guesses he looks about the same when he's finished a session with doctor Whimchester. But he has an uneasy feeling something new has happened, he hasn't seen Blaine like this during the week he's been here. A week may not be a long time, but when you live together and spend all meals and activities together, you notice more than you'd otherwise do. Kurt has an urge to hug Blaine, and it scares him, because that is really something he shouldn't do, never, at all.

* * *

Thomas hadn't bothered to be discreet or diplomatic when he told Kurt to come out from his room.

"I get the book is captivating, but you're not hear to read. Come out in the common's room and join us for a game or some other kind of fun. It's an hour until supper, and you need to spend time with other people than yourself.

So Kurt had grudgingly closed Blaine's book with the bookmark safely secured between the right pages, slowly placed it on his nightstand, and hesitantly eased himself out of bed. He'd done a detour to the bathroom to freshen up a bit and stall some more time, before carefully heading out to the common's room. Kurt simply didn't feel like socializing today.

But yet he's sitting on a couch next to Izabella. She never speaks. Kurt thinks he likes her best. He's avoiding Yosef for all it's worth, and he's too tired to manage Sarah's endless chatter. Jenny bothers him mind numbingly, but he can't pinpoint why. Izabella and her silence is perfect company for him right now. She, and the random magazine he found in the book shelf and is flicking through.

The doorbell chimes, and Matthew gets up from the chair next to Kurt to open the door. Kurt has stopped responding to the doorbell, he's gotten used to people coming in again after going out to smoke, get some fresh air, go errands, go for a walk, or whatever they want to do outside. Kurt is quite content with staying inside. He may not feel all safe and secure here, but at least he knows it's even more unpredictable and dangerous outside.

"Grande non-fat mocha, right?"

Kurt slowly lowers the magazine he's been holding in front of his head. Blaine is sitting in the arm chair Matthew vacated, with a to go-cup clutched between his hands. An identical cup is placed on the table in front of Kurt. Blaine is wearing a shy, but yet encouraging smile. He radiates a childlike expectancy, as if he's brewed the coffee himself and is hoping to make whoever tastes it proud of him.

Kurt tilts his head to the right and looks at Blaine through his eyelashes as he shyly whispers a "thank you". He reaches for the cup, careful to not spill anything as his hand trembles slightly. He leans back on the couch, crosses his left leg over the right, and lays the magazine down over his knees. His heart skips a beat, and something comes alive in his stomach. Kurt is excited. Kurt is terrified. What does this coffee mean?

Kurt lifts the cup in a mock toast, and watches Blaine over the brim as he takes the first sip. It tastes delicious, and he's smiling to Blaine even before his brain can send the nerve impulses to do so. Blaine smiles back, and lifts his cup to his lips.

"I didn't know you like coffee, Blaine," Jenny interjects, and ruins whatever kind of moment Kurt and Blaine are having.

"I, I-I do," Blaine stutters.

"Maybe we could go out for coffee tomorrow; it's been ages since I tasted the real deal."

"Umm, I'm supposed to go out alone as part of my therapy," Blaine murmurs in a low voice, but Kurt can still hear him. He's not eavesdropping. He's just simply nonchalantly focusing his hearing in that random direction.

"OK, I understand that. But what if you go out and do your things, and come back to pick me up for the coffee?"

"I… Uhh… Can we talk more about this later?" Blaine tries awkwardly, blushing and not focusing his eyes anywhere.

"Sure," Jenny smiles and pats his knee.

Kurt clenches his jaw, but continues to sip his coffee. He hates being here. He hates the moments where he feels safe and secure, making him forget how not safe he really is. If only he knew where he stands with Blaine.

* * *

Lyrics from:

The Beatles – _Free As A Bird_


	17. The Fighter

**AN: I'm a bit nervous about this chapter, but I hope you'll read it anyway.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Lana Del Rey.**

* * *

Blaine growls and tosses his phone away. It bounces twice on his bed before it stills. A stressed hand runs through his curls and he picks his phone back up, thrusting it in his pocket. It's not his phone's fault, it's not the thing to blame, and he shouldn't break it just because he's upset. Upset, hah! Furious and devastated are more like it!

He roughly flips the phone out of his pocket again, and curses as he sees the time. 06:17. The man must have forgotten about their time zone differences when he decided to spend part of his lunch break in London on the phone with his son. Or maybe he didn't care.

Blaine yanks his pre-packed bag out of the depths of the wardrobe and storms out of his room, to hunt down anyone from the staff. Tim is the first one he finds, sitting in the common's room with a cup of tea and some magazine.

"I really, really need to use the gym right now," Blaine says through gritted teeth. He's almost out of breath just from running down the hallway. His father always leaves him feeling like a deflated balloon, his soul and essence sucked out of him. But his body is still vibrating from adrenaline.

Tim gives him one look, and nods.

"I'll follow you."

The nurse stops by the staff room to alert where he's going, and Blaine is restlessly repeatedly pushing the elevator button to make it arrive quicker. The nurse takes out his key to unlock the elevator door, and Blaine impatiently hits the button that'll take him to the lower ground floor.

Tim wordlessly unlocks the door to the gym, and then to the equipment room. He drags out the heavy punching bag and climbs up the stepladder to hook it on the appropriate chain hanging from the ceiling, while Blaine wraps his hands in bandages. He pulls out his gloves from the bag, and starts hitting the air to warm up. When the bag is in position, he attacks it with furious movement. His first hits are sloppy and exaggerated, but the need to let out some of the steam triumphs technique and patience.

As Blaine manages to control his breath, his blows also get better. His pulse isn't raging wildly, but his heart is beating fiercely. His stance is balanced, one foot slightly in front of the other, and he moves quickly with flexible legs to dodge the returns of the offending piece of equipment. He manages to put the power from his entire body behind each punch, but testing different angles and techniques.

The surprisingly clear voice on the phone from an hour earlier haunts him.

_Be a man, Blaine, and suck it up._

_Blaine, you need to focus on your education if you're going to any of the ivy schools._

_Quit goofing around, Blaine. _

_Get a grip on yourself and go back to school, Blaine._

_Your mother and I simply don't understand why you are acting like this, Blaine._

Blaine sighs, and lets the punching bag sway to a still on its own. The chore of all of his problems might just be his parents' lack of understanding. Too bad there are so many parts of Blaine's life they don't understand. Having a mental disorder is one of the things they understand the least. It's as if a psychiatric diagnosis is something completely alien to them. When doctor Whimchester had explained to them it most likely is temporarily, they were even more confused. If it was temporarily, why couldn't he just get rid of it immediately? Sometimes Blaine wishes he had a tumour or a broken bone or a heart disease. At least then his parents would have to acknowledge that he's sick, right? Maybe they even would show some compassionate feelings, and not just rush him back to his exams? It would be so much easier if he could read about a treatment and prognoses, telling everybody he'll be healthy in four weeks or three months, and then everything can go back to normal.

"What is normal, anyway?" Blaine mutters, and swings a last blow.

* * *

His feet feel heavy when he more or less stumbles in the elevator. He felt drained when he came to the gym, and he feels drained now as well – but in a much better way. Physical exhaustion he can deal with, it's almost rewarding to feel the soreness and ache, feel his body complain from being pushed too far. Then he's drained for a reason, and he knows how to make it better. A long, hot shower, a quick nap in a soft bed, and a cup of coffee; it can be a miraculous cure for a worn out body. Emotionally and psychically drained, however, is an entirely different story.

Blaine pulls on his sweaty t-shirt clinging to his body. It's nice to feel his body respond and function, there was a time it wouldn't, but being sweaty has always grossed him out. He runs a hand through his skewed hair, thinking he should get a hair cut sooner rather than later, and mentally he's already in the shower.

Blaine thanks Tim for helping him, and opens the door to exit the elevator. Like a powerful magnet, his eyes are pulled in a certain direction, and rest on the figure of Kurt. Blaine swallows hard; his throat feels suspiciously dry considering he downed an entire water bottle during the short elevator ride. He hasn't seen Kurt since the boy bolted off yesterday. It's still early, people usually aren't up at this hour, and Blaine wonders if Kurt has been sneaking out at such times to avoid people. He's still in his pyjamas, so is he headed back to bed? How will he react to being noticed? Blaine really doesn't want to upset the boy, and is clueless to what he should do. Should he ignore him or talk to him? Blaine feels uneasy. He's desperate to find out if Kurt is doing better, but he don't want to mess up anything either.

"Good morning," Kurt whispers shyly, and Blaine almost floats with relief from all the tension leaving him at those two words. Kurt initiated contact; Blaine counts that as a victory in his book. Maybe he hasn't screwed everything up anyway, maybe Kurt and he still can be… acquaintances? Confidants? Friends? Blaine's in no rush to label anything, he just knows that he doesn't want to let Kurt go yet.

"Good morning to you, too. You're up early," he hurriedly replies, trying to make this more of a conversation than a polite greeting while passing in the corridors.

"I could say the same to you. I ran out of sleep," Kurt shrugs, and Blaine knows the feeling. He's had enough insomnia to know how it is to not being able to sleep no matter how much you need or want it. He's also been in the other end, where exhaustion overrides anything else. You sleep for ages, until the body wakes up, and you aren't able to sleep again for ages because there's no such thing as a tired cell in your whole body. If Kurt fell asleep right after their encounter yesterday, he must have been sleeping for 16-17 hours, Blaine quickly calculates.

"An untimely phone call woke me up one and a half hour ago," Blaine offers as explanation, and his blood is on the verge of boiling again at the thought of his father.

"Aww, sucks," Kurt coos sympathetically, and Blaine gives him a small smile. He's grateful the other boy doesn't ask him to elaborate, but obviously understands it wasn't just any phone call.

Blaine doesn't know how to follow up, and his mind is running like crazy to come up with something to say, something to keep the conversation going, something to help him make sure Kurt isn't scared or pissed off with him. Blaine stares awkwardly at the floor, thinking about the coffee that floated around their feet yesterday. He shuffles his feet, desperately trying to find a neutral topic, before this gets too awkward and he should get to that shower of his.

He sighs in relief when Kurt tells he's been able to do some reading in the book he's borrowing.

"Yeah? What do you think about it?" Blaine asks, honestly curious. He loves the books, but it's always interesting to hear what other thinks and what they get from them. They have a lot of layers, so it can be digested in so many ways.

"It's good. Entertaining, funny, it's a nice distraction."

Blaine nods in understanding. Sometimes he needs to read just to make time pass and to occupy his mind from thinking. It's not so important to grasp the deeper levels in the story at those times, it's just important to keep his consciousness busy.

"Tell me about it," Blaine laughs humourlessly. Distraction, it's a good word for what they need at times.

His t-shirt is sticky and clinging to his back, and he can feel the nasty cold sweat run down his neck and further down his spine. Blaine is really uncomfortable, and although he really wants to talk more with Kurt, he can't stand being like this. He sighs.

"I'm all sweaty and disgusting, and should get a shower. Are you having breakfast later?" he asks, hoping that'll give him a possibility to talk more with Kurt. Hopefully Kurt is getting up from bed and joining them today, hopefully he feels strong enough to face them again.

"I guess," Kurt says, and he seems confused. Maybe it's a random question for Blaine to pull; sometimes he forgets what's a normal conversation topic, and what's not.

"Good. I'll see you then," Blaine beams, glad to have confirmed that Kurt in fact is getting out of bed, braving a new day. Sometimes he needs to spend days in bed, having more than enough to cope with just breathing. Blaine is glad Kurt isn't having one of those downs. He smiles wide to the boy before he jogs to his room, longing to get out of his sticky, smelly clothes.

* * *

The shower was refreshing, and Blaine even had time for a thirty minutes long nap before breakfast. Still he doesn't feel to chatty and social when he enters the common's room for breakfast, so he sits down beside Izabella. He knows she's safe in that compartment, she never speaks to anyone. Kurt is nowhere to be seen yet, and Blaine hopes he'll show up.

Blaine is halfway through his cereal when Kurt joins them, and he smiles at Kurt as he sits down opposite of him. He's still looking for something to say, when Yosef starts talking with the boy. Blaine doesn't want to intrude, so he draws his attention back to the food.

During breakfast, Blaine can feel Kurt's eyes on him at several moments. He tries to catch his eyes, but whenever he looks up, Kurt's gaze darts away to land somewhere else. It doesn't look as if he's trying to initiate any talking with Blaine. To be honest, he looks a bit scared, and Blaine wonders what's going through Kurt's mind. Things seemed almost relaxed when they met in the hallway after the work out, but now Kurt seems tense and nervous. Blaine could understand, if that's how Kurt always acted during meals – it's nothing natural or easygoing about sharing food with strangers. But there's been a change in Kurt's behaviour during the weekend. Maybe he got some bad news from his visitors? Blaine realizes he still doesn't know what relation Kurt has to the mohawk guy. He's pretty sure it isn't a boyfriend from Kurt's negative reaction, but on the other hand, Kurt had shown pretty negative reactions to that entire conversation, so he could be trying to hide it.

Blaine is interrupted from his inner monologue by Jenny, who yet again politely asks him to send her some milk. Shortly after, she asks for sugar to her tea. She smiles funny and blinks more than seems natural, and she keeps touching him every time she demands his attention. Blaine shouldn't complain, he can be quite touchy-feely himself, but that's only around people who are comfortable with each other and that kind of friendship. He loves how his closest friends aren't afraid of giving him a hug, patting his back or high five'ing. He loves how he can cuddle with his best friends and fall asleep together in front of a DVD. But it's been a development. Blaine didn't burst into his school on his first day and embraced every other student, body tackled them to the ground, tickled them until they squirmed in laughter, and then pinned them to the floor until they promised to share their cookies. Now, more than a year later, he does that, with those he consider close friends. But that's because he knows them, trusts them and feels safe around them. He doesn't like to be touched by people he hasn't let in to his inner circle, because it reminds him too much of _that_, and he doesn't like to let his mind wander in _that_ direction. So Blaine discretely scoots his chair away from Jenny, tries to pay rapt attention to her needs before she touches him to let him know she wants something, keep up their small talk, and tries to give her just a small smile to not encourage her.

Blaine still feels Kurt's eyes on him now and then, and he longs to look in his direction, give him a smile and talk more about the book he's reading, what movies he likes, and if he likes music, but Blaine feels trapped in a corner and needs to fight off Jenny the best way he can, with his passive politeness.

Both Jenny and Blaine look up, at the sound of a chair suddenly being moved away. Blaine can barely hear him force out the words "excuse me", before he leaves. Kurt may not be crying, but Blaine managed to get a glimpse of his eyes, and he's pretty sure tears will be falling within minutes. His heart aches for the boy, and he wonders what makes him so sad. And then, an even more prominent thought fills his consciousness.

Why is he thinking so much about the boy?

* * *

Blaine notices Kurt's absence from their daily morning meeting with Christy, but he had also spotted a nurse entering their building, so he assumes he's here to attend to Kurt's… Whatever his needs are. Blaine doesn't like to assume, although he's pretty sure what's happened, considering how careful Kurt's obviously been to cover up his wrists with long sleeves and pulse warmers.

Christy informs everybody of their appointments that day, and Blaine makes a mental note he's to see doctor Whimchester at three o' clock, when the others have creative therapy.

Blaine stays in the common's room to skim through today's newspapers as usual, hoping to find something to do for his outing.

Shortly after, Kurt enters the room, but passes right through it and opens the door to the conversation room. Blaine had missed it, his attention drawn to an editorial about Proposition 5, but doctor Whimchester and Thomas are already waiting for Kurt in that room. Blaine quickly finishes his reading, and then leaves for his room. It isn't much, but at least it's some kind of privacy he can offer to whomever is opening their heart and soul, without doubt painfully so. He sits down by his desk, breathing calmly and checking his state of mind. He feels more relaxed now, so he'll try to get some of his school work done. He's way behind in math, so he should try to make some progress in that book.

It isn't easy. He can feel the still fresh cuts from his father's words hurt each time he bumps into an equation he can't immediately solve, it hurts each time he gets the wrong answer, and it hurts extra painfully when he has to skip an entire chapter because he needs tutoring to understand anything. It's not as if Blaine's bad in math, but it just doesn't come easily to him. Trying to learn it all by himself isn't the best solution, and he would do so much better if he was back in class. And again his father's words resonate in his foggy mind.

_Quit the nonsense, get back to school, get a proper education like you should have done all the time, quit feeling sorry for yourself, grow up and think about the future._

In hindsight, maybe math wasn't the best subject to work on today.

* * *

Blaine is glad to see Kurt is seated by the table when he joins them for lunch. Hopefully whatever upset him during breakfast isn't weighting him too much down, and the session with doctor Whimchester probably wasn't too heavy. Blaine still tries to catch the other boy's eyes, to check if he's all right. Kurt smiles at him. Blaine returns the smile, but it feels faked. He hasn't managed to get rid of his father's words yet, and they are interfering with everything else now.

* * *

While the others are headed for creative therapy, Blaine meets Matthew and doctor Whimchester in the conversation room.

"So, have you been working out, Blaine?"

"Are you hitting on me, doctor Whimchester?" Blaine replies mischievously. It earns him a heartily laughter from both the doctor and Matthew.

"We'll have to wait 'till you're not longer my patient, if my wife leaves me I might give you a call," he chuckles.

It feels good to be able to make jokes and play with words around the doctor. Blaine's been to enough talking sessions with him to know how laidback he really is, and they've developed some kind of connection. Blaine is one of the few who actually knows the doctor's first name, and that's what he usually uses during sessions – unless he's cracking some kind of joke. Both know he does it to deflect and avoid questions, but sometimes it's nice to make someone laugh when everybody else is so serious. That's why the doctor allows Blaine to put on the fool's mask now and then, but he always eventually guides him sternly back to topic.

"Tim didn't get any details from you, but he told me your appearance made it obvious something had happened and you needed the release."

"My father called me at six AM," Blaine grunts.

"Ah. Where is he this time?"

"London."

"Nice city. A lot of culture, a lot of history, a lot of shopping. You'd like it there."

"Maybe some time _he_ isn't there," Blaine mutters.

"Shouldn't be too difficult to manage, considering how much he travels."

It earns him a small chuckle from Blaine. Doctor Whimchester knows Blaine very well by now, and knows he can't just ask questions and expect Blaine to answer them. Blaine is an intelligent, eloquent kid with a rich vocabulary; he would do very well on any debate theme. Add that to his upbringing and background, and you get a young man who's mastered the art of holding a long conversation without actually saying anything with substance. Blaine can dodge any kind of grilling questionnaire, so to make any breakthrough with him doctor Whimchester needs to make Blaine offer up the information in a normal conversation. And that means making some jokes, offer some harmless bashing of his biggest hate object whenever he's brought into conversation, and guide the topics without making Blaine feel tricked or interviewed.

"How did the boxing go? It's been some time since you had any lessons."

"Yeah, it showed. I need someone to discipline my training, or else I lose any technique. I began with too much emotion today, I couldn't control the strokes."

"You were angry?" the doctor asks, honestly surprised. Blaine nods in confirmation. "Well, I'd call that progress," he chuckles, knowing that Blaine needs a lot of affirmation and down right compliments to balance out some of his insecurities.

Blaine looks at him with disbelief written all over his face.

"You getting mad is a good thing – you are venting your feelings instead of shutting down, and you aren't letting your father walk all over you," doctor Whimchester says, letting the psychiatrist show. "You're getting stronger; you're fighting in more ways than in the gym."

"Now tell me, did you manage to soothe your coffee hunger yesterday?"

Doctor Whimchester doesn't get the reaction he expects. That kind of innocent question usually is all it takes to make Blaine tell about his outing the day before. What he did, where he went, how he felt, if he challenged himself, if he interacted with anybody. But now the doctor can see him visibly tense and close himself up. Obviously, something had happened. Both the doctor and Matthew stay quiet, waiting to see if Blaine will initiate anything himself.

Blaine thought he'd gotten the entire spectacle with Kurt from yesterday out of his system after his talk with Thomas, but obviously not. He doesn't want to talk about it, but it still bothers him. He realizes he should talk with Kurt about it, but he also realizes he can't just approach him and start a conversation about something that obviously wasn't easy for him to talk about.

"The outing went better than the aftermath," Blaine sighs.

The other two still don't say anything, but let him know from their body language they are waiting for the rest of the story. Word by word Blaine stumbles through his encounter with Kurt, and he cries because he has so many emotions, and they are overwhelming. He's so disappointed by himself, for assuming and pressuring. He's frustrated with being gay and living in a homophobic world. He's scared about going back to that world. He's afraid of being lonely. He's tired of being a failure. He's hurt by his parents' lack of understanding. It feels as if his bone marrow is trembling with all kinds of emotions, and he doesn't know what to name half of them. He's so tired, and for once he'd like to be allowed being an ordinary teenage boy, being loved and enjoying life.

"I've been fighting for so long, and I don't know if I have any more strength to go on by…"

* * *

He knows his eyes are red rimmed and his face puffy, but he's in no position to care about how he looks. Besides, everybody here's had a bad day or rough session at some time. Blaine just wants to get through dinner, feed his hunger, and get out. Jenny tries to engage him in small talk, but he's too drained to put up his normally polite façade, and eventually she takes the hint and lets him be.

He swallows down the last vegetables with a glass of water, grabs his jacket, and leaves. He's actually looking forward to the fresh air, although he's not happy it's already dusk outside. He prefers his outings during daylight, but that wasn't possible today. He'd like to go for a walk in the nearby park, but he isn't brave enough to do so in the dark. Instead he goes in the opposite direction, and makes sure to walk on crowded pavements, following the flow to the small mall not too far away. At least he'll be somewhere public, among people. That ought to satisfy the doctor. Blaine will buy something today. A book, a DVD, a shirt, whatever takes his fancy. Then he'll have to _interact_ with people as well, which the doctor wants him to do. And on his way home, he'll buy two cups of coffee.

Blaine cautiously enters the mini mall, and his pulse rate increases. It's easier to walk fast down the pavements, with or without a goal, than to wander aimlessly around in a mall. The latter makes him feel like an easier target. He quickly scans the floor map to see which stores catch his interest, and mentally plans a route.

He didn't plan to go by the music store, but they play something over their sound system that catches his attention. It's a woman singing, and it sounds as if she's carrying just as many emotions Blaine is struggling with. Her voice is raw but tender, sore but gentle, hurt but loving. Blaine is mesmerized, and from just 30 seconds of listening he knows he needs more of that music. Two minutes later, he's the owner of Lana del Rey's new CD.

* * *

Blaine pushes the doorbell, and waits for someone to buzz him up. He's been a good boy and followed doctor's order, being outside for more than an hour. He's bought a CD, and he's bought coffee, which means he managed to talk to two different strangers today. It should earn him a metaphorical gold star.

Blaine goes to his room to deposit the little plastic bag from the music store and his jacket, and then hurries back to the common's room. He'd caught in the corner of his eye Kurt sitting there, so he wants to catch him before he disappears. Maybe it would be easier if Blaine found him alone in his room, but hopefully Kurt won't feel threatened by him when they are in a room with other people.

To be honest, Blaine isn't quite sure why he bought coffee for Kurt as well. He can hardly call him a friend, as Kurt seems vary to be around him. But at other times they have these moments, when Blaine feels as if they _connect_. From the little they have talked and texted, Blaine knows Kurt has a slight coffee addiction, just like he has, so it feels good to help a fellow caffeine junkie. And of course - doctor Whimchester's voice resonates in Blaine's head - Blaine has this desperation to make everybody like him. He needs to be good enough, for everybody. Blaine sighs. Who needs bullies, when you can be your own worst enemy?

There's an empty chair next to where Kurt is sitting on the couch, busy reading an interior magazine. Blaine sits down in that chair.

"Grande non-fat mocha, right?" he asks to get the boy's attention, after placing his cup on the table in front of him.

He really hopes Kurt will accept the coffee, but he's afraid he's scared from yesterday. Blaine just wants to make up for that, and can't think of any other way until he knows the boy better, if he'll ever get there. Gosh, he really hopes this won't backfire. He even went to a coffee bar further away, because they make better coffee than the shop closest to the hospital. They have really great coffee, and he hopes this cup will be emptied in Kurt's tummy, not on the floor. Calm down, Blaine, he scolds himself, and tries to give Kurt an encouraging smile when he gets the boy's attention, but too many expectations and fears are running through his veins. He feels buzzed, as if caffeine is already running through his veins. Blaine puts on his well mastered show face, trying to ooze control and confidence.

Blaine patiently watches Kurt lowers the magazine. His eyes light up in recognition, and he lets go of the magazine with one hand. Blaine knows when Kurt notices the coffee cup, because his eyes widen and a faint blush colours over his cheek bones. Everything happens within the span of seven seconds, but if anything Blaine is an excellent people reader. It's a talent he's crafted throughout his fairly young life. It's a necessity when your life mission and survival strategy is to please everybody else.

"Thank you," Kurt says with a barely there voice, looking at Blaine through his eyelashes. And those eyes do funny things with Blaine's stomach he didn't expect. Huh.

Kurt leans forward for the cup, and although he seems both careful and anxious, he still accepts the coffee. Blaine will count that as another victory in his book. The boy shifts back on the couch, manoeuvring into a more comfortable position, and lays the magazine down on his crossed knees. Blaine is glad. It makes the boy more approachable, it'll be easier to talk with him if he hasn't got something covering his face. He isn't instantly rejecting or avoiding Blaine completely. Blaine will count that as a victory as well.

Blaine mirrors Kurt's mock toast, and watches him take the first sip. Kurt seems to be smiling even before he's done swallowing, and Blaine returns the smile before he takes his first sip. Afterwards, he'll ask Kurt if he always orders the same coffee, or if he alternates, so he knows if he should bring something else the next day. Blaine likes making people happy, and if a cup of coffee can make Kurt smile for a moment, he'll gladly provide it. The boy intrigues him, and if things were different maybe they could have become friends. But he doesn't know where Kurt lives. There aren't many psychiatric wards specifically for youth to choose from, so some of the patients come from afar. Blaine isn't sure he can be much of a friend at the moment either, he has too many problems, too many struggles; he doesn't have anything good to bring to the table. It's nice to have someone to talk with in the ward, but who'll want to maintain that contact once they're discharged? Blaine's too much hassle, and there are too many people out there without issues to be friends with instead.

"I didn't know you like coffee, Blaine," Jenny interrupts his inner monologue. Blaine had been so lost in own thoughts, he didn't realize she's joined them. Not for the first time, Blaine curses his own shyness and subtlety towards girls. He's always been kind of oblivious to flirting and that stuff, because honestly – why should anyone want to flirt with him? He's nothing special, quite the opposite; he's a broken boy in a too short body. But for some reason, girls tend to navigate towards him. He's even discovered some boys checking him out. Not in Ohio, of course, but luckily there are better states to be in than that hellhole he currently is situated in. Blaine doesn't know how to flirt and is poor at romance, and usually he doesn't recognize when he's being hit on. But Jenny has made it quite obvious the last days, and he wishes he was better at turning people down. He feels choked and awkward with that kind of attention, especially from girls, 'cause there's no way in hell they stand a chance. He may be bad at flirting and lack a lot of teenage experiences, but Blaine knows without doubt what catches his eye – and that's exquisite representatives of the male specimen.

"I, I-I do," Blaine stutters, realizing he should answer her. What does he even say to such a line? He doesn't know if she drinks coffee either, but it really isn't a big deal.

"Maybe we could go out for coffee tomorrow, it's been ages since I tasted the real deal," she suggests, and Blaine just wants to scream.

NO! his brain screams. I don't date girls; I don't want to do anything with you. I like girls as friends, but I have no chemistry with you and you just annoy me, I really don't see us becoming friends, and even I realize you don't want my friendship. Please back off and let me be, you push too hard.

"Umm, I'm supposed to go out alone as part of my therapy," Blaine mumbles, not feeling eager to elaborate on his individual therapy program, but seeing it as a more polite and acceptable excuse rather than his screaming inner monologue. Blaine's well versed in proper etiquette, and one does not scream to young ladies.

"OK, I understand that. But what if you go out and do your things, and come back to pick me up for the coffee?" Jenny suggests, and Blaine cringes. He doesn't like confrontations at all. He just wants to enjoy his medium drip and make small talk with Kurt.

"I… Uhh… Can we talk more about this later?" he offers, hoping she'll understand he tries to let her down, but realistically expecting her to not give up. This just feels awkward, and he can't meet her eyes. He doesn't want to explain himself in front of everybody else. He didn't tip-toe back to the closet after "the incident", but it didn't give him an urge to proclaim his sexuality on every corner either. He likes to know he can trust people before opening up to them. The patients share mainly superficial knowledge about each other, or deeper psychological challenges. _Are you a violent homophobe?_ has so far not been a topic for their group sessions, oddly enough. Blaine snorts, and hurries to disguise it as a cough when he interrupts himself from his captivating inner monologue and realizes he's among people.

"Sure," Jenny smiles and pats his knee. Blaine thinks he manages to override his automatic flinch. He's been good at that around her. She's such a touchy-feely girl, so he's grown accustomed to expect her to touch him. Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

* * *

**AN: So, in case anyone's confused - this is the same day and a lot of the same things that happened in the last chapter - but completely from Blaine's perspectiv.**


	18. Out

**AN: So, this chapter was a real pain to write, and it still isn't exactly as I'd like, but I'm at my wits end, and just want to go on with next chapter...**

**If something seems off or odd, I'd appreciate the feedback. If something seems rushed, I'd also appreciate a heads up, so I can explain things better.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, acclaimed musicals or breathtaking singer-voices.**

* * *

Sleep doesn't come easily to Kurt that night. He ends up finishing Blaine's book while waiting for the morning to come. His body feels heavy and nauseous, though, and he can't stomach anything but half an apple and two glasses of ice water for breakfast. He notices Blaine isn't sitting next to Jenny, and it confuses him. Yesterday he'd gotten the impression they are having a coffee date today. Of course that had confused him as well, as Blaine supposedly is gay, so Kurt tries to relax and accept this is a confusing place with confused people.

Kurt curls up in the couch, waiting for the morning meeting to begin. His head is leaning against the back of the couch, eyes closed, opting for a two minutes long power nap. He feels the couch dip beside him, and peak through half closed eyes to see Blaine watching him with an amused expression.

"Good morning?" Blaine says, although it sounds more like a question.

"I finished your book," Kurt answers. "I started reading it in bed because I couldn't sleep. But then I couldn't sleep because I was reading the book," he continues, mock offended. "You've got me hooked, Blaine," he accuses, but grins.

Blaine chuckles, and leans his head against the back of the couch as well, face towards Kurt.

"So," he says softly, "the important question is: Do you want detox – or do want a second shot? The first's on the house," he says, winking at Kurt. His breath tickles Kurt's ear, making the neck hair rise.

"And exactly what kind of rates do you charge?" Kurt smirks, facing towards Blaine as well.

"Oh, I'm sure we can come to an agreement," Blaine whispers. The boys lock eyes, their smiles dissolving to something more sober.

They abruptly tear apart by the voice of Christy greeting everybody a good morning.

"Today is Tuesday November 25th, and as I'm sure most of you know, Thanksgiving is coming up. Some of you will be allowed to go home for the holiday, if you wish so. Others we deem not ready for going back home yet. However, all of you will get more information about this from your personal contact."

Kurt is surprised he's actually forgotten all about Thanksgiving. Even though they have a varied program, most days still seem quite similar, and he hasn't a good grasp on which day or date it is when he wakes up. He wonders if the staff reckons he should stay or should go. To be honest, Kurt isn't sure what he'd prefer.

"You have two group sessions today, and some of you have appointments with doctor Whimchester as well. We have group therapy at 10:30, and today's topic is hope. You have some easy PE at 15:00. Kurt, you'll see the doctor at 14:00, Sandy…"

Kurt ignores the other announcements, it isn't important to him, and lets his head rest on the back of the couch instead. As soon as Christy is done talking, he'll have an hour until group therapy, and maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to get some sleep done in that time slot.

* * *

Blaine doesn't have an individual appointment today, but Matthew had asked for five minutes in the conference room after the morning meeting.

"Thanksgiving," he says.

"Thanksgiving," Blaine replies.

"If you want to go home, we're all up for that. You've shown a lot of progress lately, you are doing fine with the outings, and going back home would be a dry run for longer outings or even being discharged."

Blaine doesn't hesitate.

"I'd rather not. To be honest, I don't feel ready to face my father yet."

"You have other options. We thought you'd like to fly out tomorrow and come back on Friday."

"I appreciate the thought you've put in this, but I'd rather stay here."

"OK, that's your decision to make. We'll have turkey here as well, so you won't miss out," Matthew chuckles.

* * *

"Hey Blaine!" Jenny has him cornered as soon as he leaves the conference room with Matthew. "I was thinking, that coffee we talked about yesterday?"

"Jenny, hi," Blaine sighs. "Would you mind joining me in here?" he asks and opens the door to the conference room again.

She follows him, and sits down primly on the couch.

"Yes Blaine?" she says expectantly.

"Jenny, I don't want to seem presumptuous, but I get the impression you… Are you flirting with me?" he blurts out, blushing.

Jenny blushes too, but meets his eyes.

"I like you," she whispers shyly. "You're cute and sweet, and I was hoping we could go on a date."

"Jenny, I'm flattered, I really am, but I can't date you."

"Can't? Whatever reason, I'm sure we can fix it," she says hopefully.

Blaine chuckles.

"Jenny, I'm gay," he says with ease in his voice.

He's lost count on how many times he's had to come out. People always talk about _the_ coming out-story, as if it's something you do only once. The fact is, he constantly comes out. To new classmates, to colleagues, to distant relatives who's forgotten since last they saw him or was hoping it had faded away, to girls who flirt, to every new person he meets and lets in close enough for it to be a topic. And he never knows how they'll react. Of course some responses matter more to him than others, but he doesn't think he'll ever stop being wary about it.

"Oh," is all she says, before she gets up and leaves.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," he mumbles, and follows in her trace.

* * *

"As Christy said this morning, today's topic is _hope_," Melinda introduces their group therapy. "Thanksgiving is coming up, and many use that day to reminisce about what we are thankful for. To have something to be thankful for, means having something positive in your life. And having something positive to hold on to, is having hope. Hope can be defined as an emotional state which promotes the belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. Because not all of us will be here for dinner on Thursday, I want us to tell each other now what we are thankful for, something minor or major, that's up to you."

Melinda looks expectantly at them, one by one.

"Who wants to start?"

Sarah immediately rants on about something, but Kurt quickly blocks her out. He's busy with his own thoughts, trying to think about what he has to bring to the table. What on earth can he be grateful for, when he not two weeks ago tried to leave this rotten earth, having had enough of it all? It's not as if his attempt was something spontaneous and impulsive. Oh no, it was something he had considered and pondered upon for a long time, weighting the pros against the cons, carefully considering his options, until he realized he only had one option. And he isn't so sure the situation is any differently today. Although he realizes one important thing made it easier for him to make his choice. One important factor was the tiny drop that made it so easy for him to do what he did.

Kurt's brought out of his reverie by the sound of Blaine's gentle and low voice.

"I'm grateful for my best friends at school," he says, smiling brightly, as if the mere thought of them makes his day so much better.

"It's scary how well they know me. I know they love me. The last two times I've been here it's because they've seen the warning signals before my therapist saw them," he adds, seemingly thoughtful and distant for a moment.

"They keep an eye on me, look after me, want me to get better – but they also manage to put their concern aside, and treat me like a normal teenager. They respect my bad days, but they aren't afraid of pushing me out of bed either. They worry about me, but they don't act differently around me. They see me as one of the guys. It's daunting, because sometimes I can't see myself as anything but a broken kid; I'm different from them in so many ways. But then they manage to make me see we are all different. We are all individuals," he chuckles.

Kurt giggles from his seat opposite of Blaine at the Monty Python reference. Blaine looks at him and smiles, winks and shakes his head amused.

"That's something precious to be grateful for," Melinda interjects, trying to suppress laughter as she got the reference as well. She likes to see the patients cracking jokes and smiling, it means they are healing. "Can you link this to hope, Blaine?"

Blaine is silent for a moment.

"Well, it's always been safe to go back to school, because I know they've got my back and wait for me with open arms," he says slowly, as if he's still looking for a link connecting his friends to a hope.

"I guess it gives me hope I'll manage to work through this. They're my safety net, and as I'm just a junior I feel I have some time before I'm thrown to the real world. I hope they'll help me prepare for what comes after high school. Therapy or no therapy; my friends give me something valuable and irreplaceable," he concludes with a serious expression.

"That's good, Blaine. Hold on to your friends. They are your second family. There's no reason that any of you should have to fight your demons on your own. It's not a sign of weakness to need somebody to help you along the way. And a helping hand can come from the most unexpected places, in the most surprising shapes. Be open to what the world has to offer," she encourages.

Melinda lets her eyes rest on each one as she gives her speech. Her eyes land on Kurt lastly.

"Kurt, what do you have to share with us?"

Kurt swallows, stares at the floor for a moment, while trying to organize his thoughts and sort the words in the right order.

"I'm thankful my dad met the woman he recently got engaged to marry," he begins, trying to push away the guilt for the postponed wedding.

"He's been coping alone for many years. He's never said he was lonely, but I see all the changes after Carole came into his life. She's good for him. He has someone to love and someone who loves him. It was just the two of us for such a long time, and I felt responsible for helping him, being here, not leaving him alone. Now that my dad has Carole, I feel freer to do what I want. He won't be lonely, whatever I do. I'm thankful my dad found love and happiness."

"Let me first congratulate your dad and Carole with their engagement; a wedding is always a happy occasion."

Kurt returns the smile Melinda is sending him, because he truly is happy for his father.

"Does this give you some kind of hope?"

"Of course," Kurt says immediately. "Not only have I mere hope, I'm convinced my dad will be happy for the rest of his life with Carole."

"That's sweet of you, but are there any lessons of hope for your own life you can learn from this story?"

"No? I don't see what that should be," Kurt answers short, but truthfully.

"Isn't it a story about how things eventually get better?"

"They met as a consequence of my failed attempt at pursuing a romance. Just because other people find happiness, doesn't mean the same is in store for me," Kurt sighs.

"But if you could picture your perfect future in any way you want – what would you be hoping for?"

"I honestly don't know. I stopped dreaming a long time ago."

"You're in high school, right?"

"I'm a senior."

"Oh, so you're soon graduating," Melinda says eagerly. "What are your plans after that?"

"I planned to be six feet under," Kurt rolls his eyes. This is tedious, and he can feel his anger building.

Melinda coughs in her hand, looking at a spot behind Kurt's head as if to find the next question there.

"But now you are given a second chance. You can hope for things to be better."

"I really don't see the point in wasting my time and energy in _hoping_ for anything, as things never tend to work out in my favour."

"Sometimes it's difficult to see any light in all the darkness. But that is why you are here, to get help to navigate in the dark," Melinda says, and moves on to let Yosef tell about his hopes and thankfulness.

* * *

"How are you today, Kurt?" Doctor Whimchester looks at him with a neutral, but open expression.

"I didn't sleep much tonight. But I slept a lot yesterday, so I think my body's just trying to balance it out," Kurt answers, not wanting to give his therapist reason to worry. Worry leads to prying, and that's just so useless and tiring.

"That's good. I know we tried sleeping pills this weekend, and it didn't work out for you. There are other brands we can try instead, but I'm not a fan of unnecessary medication. I want to see if you can work through this by other means," the psychiatrist says and looks sternly at Kurt. Kurt needs to cooperate to be better, it won't happen all by itself.

"I could pepper you with sleeping pills and anti depressive and anti anxiety pills and God knows what. But those pills don't really solve anything. They can help you, but in the end you still have to work through your challenges. Though, I'm more lenient to sleeping pills, because it's important for your recovery to be rested," he explains.

Kurt nods in understanding. He's glad the doctor doesn't want him to test new sleeping pills, because the first one made him feel like shit.

"I've told Thomas and Margaret they can give you something to sleep on if you are actually having difficulties, but it's not supposed to be on a regular basis," the doctor emphasizes.

He then explains about an herbal medication. The first brand Kurt tried is chemically produced, while this one is made on natural ingredients. It hasn't as strong an effect, and will make the body more relaxed than actually asleep. It usually hasn't any side effects, as it is easier for the body to accept its gentler effect.

Kurt nods again, it's a plan he feels comfortable with.

"Christy mentioned Thanksgiving this morning," Kurt says, curious about what they're thinking he should do.

"We strongly believe you should stay here. You still need us, and you haven't left the ward for more than ten minutes since you came, so we think it'll be too much for you to go home. You need safety, and you need to settle down with some routines to gain back some control of your own life. We don't want to uproot the progress you've made so far."

Kurt nods yet again; he doesn't feel so talkative. His brain is tired and works slowly, and words are difficult to master at the moment.

"But there are less program on Thursday, so we'll offer for your family to come on a short visit, if they want to," Thomas adds, smiling at Kurt.

"That's good," Kurt smiles back.

"Are there anything you want to talk about, anything you're thinking about? These sessions are for you, so I shouldn't dictate the topics," doctor Whimchester offers.

"There is one thing…" Kurt hesitates.

Both men nod encouragingly.

"I feel like I don't recognize myself. I have a lot of unpredictable mood swings, and it's tiring to go through all kinds of emotions in a short time span."

"I understand you feel tired. If it's any comfort, the mood swings are normal. You're more or less forced to deal with a lot of emotions and experiences you otherwise might have chosen to postpone, ignore or suppress. Your brain has a lot to digest, and the mood swings are responses. You may not realize all the brain processing, but your subconsciousness is working on it. On top of it, you have to get used to this place, and you interact with different people who you resonate differently with."

"So I just have to accept the mood swings?"

"More or less, but you are allowed to help yourself. If you need to be alone with your thoughts, that's OK. You don't have to push yourself all the time. But we want you to push a little. And make sure you do things here that are positive as well. A lot of the activities are quite heavy on both heart and brain, so try to compensate. Spend time with people you enjoy being around, do things that make you relax and recharge your batteries. And let us know if we can do anything to help you feel better, or if you need anything. I guess you've noticed you need more sleep as well. It's exhausting to be in pain, to grief, to hurt."

"That sounds logical. Thank you for explaining and giving advice."

"Does the mood swings have anything to do with your thoughts in group therapy today?" the doctor then asks.

Kurt swallows. Of course Melinda talked with the rest of the staff.

"I didn't say anything untruthful, but sometimes things seem darker and more hopeless. I honestly have no dreams or ambitions or hopes anymore. I'm not convinced I'm better off being alive."

"So that's what we'll work on in your therapy," the doctor concludes.

"Are you ready for gym?" Thomas asks, as doctor Whimchester gets ready to leave.

Kurt stiffens.

"I'm not so fond of gym, to be honest."

"Why?"

Kurt shrugs. He doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to wake up those memories, he doesn't want to give them more fuel for the mind numbingly talking sessions.

"It's just not my thing," he says evasively.

Thomas and doctor Whimchester look at each other.

"We can't force you to something that isn't mandatory, and PE isn't. But we aren't encouraging you to join just because it's healthy to move a bit in between all the couch potato-activities. It's even more important to interact with people. A friendly game of table tennis or fooling around with a yoga ball is means to achieve that."

Kurt nods in understanding.

"OK. I'll be in my room," he says.

* * *

After dinner is served and eaten, most of them gather around the TV. Sarah has taken control of the remote, zapping through every channel to find out what their options are. The others silently accept her dictatorship for now, knowing they usually are more democratic with the actual choosing of a program to watch.

"I just don't get it," Jenny sighs out of the blue. "Are you sure you're gay, Blaine?" she says, looking at said boy.

The room falls silent, and everybody's eyes land on Blaine. Except for Kurt, who's looking intently at Jenny, and wondering what the hell she's up to addressing something private like that.

"Uh yes, I've known for the last five years," Blaine chuckles humourlessly, and shifting uncomfortably in the couch.

"Because I can understand Kurt is, that's obvious, he looks the part. But you look so… normal, in a very cute and hot way," Jenny blushes, blinking coyly.

Kurt chokes on his breath, and visibly pales. He'd storm out of the room if he wasn't frozen to the couch.

"Wow…" Blaine mutters. "That is the single most condescending thing I've ever heard." he huffs, and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his curls. He quickly glances over at Kurt, noticing how upset he looks.

"You have no right assuming anything about neither Kurt nor me. If Kurt is gay, that's his story to tell. If he's straight, that's also his business. And when I tell you I'm gay, that's something you'll have to listen to. I'm sorry I won't date you, it's nothing personal. No, wait, I'm not sorry, because I haven't done anything wrong I should apologize!" Blaine is shouting now, and some time during his monologue he got up from the couch and started pacing the floor in front of all of them.

"I just don't understand how you can be gay?" Jenny asks, her lower lip trembling.

"Because you believe in stereotypes," Blaine sighs and slumps down in the couch next to Kurt. "When people continue to say things like that, they also reinforce boundaries and limitations for how other people can express themselves. There's no right or wrong way to be gay or straight, there's no one single way how to be a male or a woman. A man who likes to dress in nice clothes isn't obviously gay, and a woman who doesn't wear make up isn't automatically lesbian. Stereotypes and prejudices make it difficult to be gay, but they make it difficult to be a straight man challenging norms as well."

"But why didn't you tell any sooner?" Jenny looks confused, and is not so discreetly brushing away a tear.

"To put it bluntly, this isn't a place to make friends. Neither of us opens up much to each other, except for the topics approached in group therapy. We really don't know much about each other. You don't know my favourite song, what books I read, which school I attend, if I have siblings, how I prefer my eggs, if I have any allergies, and until recently you didn't know if I would date boys or girls. I'm out and proud and all that jazz, but I don't need to constantly wave a rainbow flag over my head either."

"Oh…" is all Jenny says. Again.

"So no coffee then?" she adds in afterthought.

"No…" Blaine sighs, and leaves the dumbstruck room.

Kurt has watched the entire spectacle with wide eyes. He's suspicion about Blaine being in the closet is blown to atomic pieces, only leaving him with a feeling of shame. Blaine even defended him. Kurt feels ashamed, because he let his prejudices colour his impression of Blaine. He feels powerless and shaken; he's been challenged to the core on his assumptions and stereotypes. He can't help but admire Blaine for how he stands up for himself and responds to Jenny. Kurt wishes he could have the same strength and guts.

Kurt gets up from the couch, and everybody looks at him.

"I… I am gay too," he whispers and leaves the room, controlling his every single step to prevent himself from running away.

He walks past the door to his own room, and doesn't stop until he's at the end of the corridor, in front of Blaine's door. He hesitates. Blaine did leave, clearly needing to be alone. But Kurt needs to apologize. And maybe, just maybe, they both need to feel something else than being lonely. Blaine said he wasn't here to make friends, but hopefully they could still be _friendly_. So he knocks on the door.

It doesn't take long before Blaine opens the door, but he looks surprised to see Kurt on the other side.

"I thought you were Matthew," he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

"I'm sorry; I'll leave," Kurt says with a trembling voice, head downcast, and he turns to walk away.

"No, please, I'm glad it's you," Blaine says, voice both eager and pleading.

Kurt turns towards Blaine again, tilting his head, question marks in his pupils.

"Do you want to come in?" Blaine asks, and opens the door wider.

Kurt carefully enters the room.

"I don't want to intrude, if you'd rather be alone."

"Shush silly," Blaine smiles, and Kurt can't help but smile back. It lasts until he remembers why he came.

"I owe you an apology," Kurt starts carefully.

"OK. Why?" Blaine is obviously confused.

"I have been unfair to you."

"I haven't got a clue what you're talking about, but we shouldn't have this kind of conversation while standing. Do you want to sit down?"

Blaine gestures towards the bed, and scoots up against the headboard. Kurt hesitantly sits down opposite of him, with legs crisscrossed. Blaine looks expectantly at him, so the ball is obviously on Kurt's court.

"I've judged and mistrusted you, and I'm sorry I did," Kurt mumbles, talking to his toes.

He risks a quick glance at Blaine, who still looks confused, head tilted and forehead wrinkled. Kurt sighs.

"On Sunday, when you came out to me, I basically got the impression you were still in the closet. I've had some shitty experiences with a closeted gay, so I freaked out and got scared," Kurt says with as clear a voice he can muster, fighting against a dry lump in his throat.

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sad to hear that," Blaine whispers, and there's no doubt in Kurt Blaine means it. "I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable."

"No, Blaine, it isn't your fault I have issues," Kurt eagerly shakes his head.

"But I shouldn't have just sprung it on you, and I could have explained myself better. But did something change for you to come apologizing? Which you have no reason to do, by the way," he adds in a rush.

Kurt blushes.

"Your speech, earlier? You kind of didn't seem so closeted there," Kurt chuckles, making Blaine grin as well. "Thank you, for standing up for me."

"I didn't mean to rush in like some knight undermining you, but stereotyping someone like that really offends me. It's like waving a red cloth in front of me," Blaine adds apologetically.

"But she's right, you know."

"She's wrong, too. She doesn't know everything about you."

"Neither do you," Kurt parries.

"No…" Blaine says, and Kurt can't decipher the look Blaine gives him. "But I like to believe I know you better than she does."

"Maybe," Kurt shrugs, and winks, and enjoys the blush creeping up on Blaine's face, blatantly ignoring his own colouring.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Blaine asks.

"How?"

"On my laptop."

"You have your laptop here?" Kurt is surprised; he would have thought it would be confiscated.

"Yeah, and I just got the battery charged. Of course I'm not allowed to have the charger here, in case I decide to strangle myself with it or something …"

"I know, it feels insane. How hopelessly mental do they think we are? How do they see us? How low have I really sunk?"

"I don't think you're hopeless, Kurt. I think you're fighting."

"Pssh, yeah sure, 'cause being admitted to a psychiatric hospital after a failed suicide attempt is the epitome of strong and surviving." Kurt is actually surprised by his own bluntness.

"You're still here, aren't you?"

"With all kinds of restrictions. They could just as well have put me in an incubator on all kinds of life supporting systems. I live because I'm prevented from dying."

"You know what? I don't believe that for one minute. I see you, and I see you fighting," Blaine says sincerely, and leans in to gently rub a thumb over Kurt's healing scars on his wrists. The touch sends a shiver through Kurt, but the scars burn.

"You said in the group session you've stopped dreaming and hoping, but I think you're wrong. Maybe you're not conscious about it, but there's a fight going on in you. I've been here a lot, and I've seen things. If someone really wants to try something, they'll find the means."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever been on a plane?"

"No, why?"

"Do you know they changed the cutlery after 9/11, so nobody could use it to hijack the pilot?"

Kurt shakes his head.

"While we, a bunch of teenagers with mental issues and various degrees of a death wish, get to deal with normal cutlery and knives four times a day. I'm just stating something obvious, desperate people get creative," Blaine says seriously. "You still have a spark; you just need to find out how you can make it grow."

There's a long silence between the boys.

"Blaine?" Kurt says carefully.

"What?" Blaine looks concerned.

"Your inner shrink is showing," Kurt says seriously.

The words have hardly left his mouth, before Blaine launches at him, laughingly. He attacks the other boy with tickles, making Kurt fall over, squirming on the mattress.

"I.. Am… No… Doctor… Whimchester!" he forces out in between his fit of giggles.

"No… You're… You're…" Kurt tries while wrestling away from Blaine's way too effective fingers. "Who are you?" he laughs, trying to tickle back.

"Mr. Anderson," Blaine smirks.

"Of course you are," Kurt chuckles, and Blaine grins.

Kurt's lying on his back, with his feet tucked under himself. Blaine is effectively blocking him from any movement by pinning his wrists along Kurt's own body. Neither boy can remember the last time they laughed like that.

"Movie time?" Blaine eventually asks, blushing and quickly releasing his hold on Kurt.

He scrambles out of bed to get his laptop, and Kurt scoots up to get comfortable by the headboard. Blaine sits down next to him, laptop resting on one thigh each.

"I've copied some of my favourites to the laptop, so I didn't have to fill my luggage with DVD's. I don't have the greatest selection, but I hope you see something you can watch," Blaine explains, and opens the folder with the saved films.

Kurt quickly scans the file names, and notices most of them are musicals. An uneasy feeling churns in his stomach. He loved musicals. As in past tense. Musicals were some of the things he left behind in an effort to become less of a target in the school hallways. But what harm can it do to watch one of them with Blaine? Obviously he likes them as well, why else would he have them on his computer?

"I don't have any preferences, you can pick whatever," Kurt offers.

"Is this OK?" Blaine asks, and lets the cursor rest over one of the files.

Kurt blinks. It's not what he would have expected, but why not?

"Go ahead," he encourages Blaine. He hasn't seen it for ages, but he's quite sure it won't trigger anything.

Blaine double clicks the icon, and not after long the characteristic bass and drum beat to _Aquarius_ fills the room.

Kurt leans back even further, letting Blaine's pillow swallow him. The conversation from group therapy resonates in his head. Hopes. Dreaming. A future filled with what? He used to dream about this. Not being stone in a park with messy hair and torn clothes. But singing, dancing, acting on a stage. It used to be everything to him. But his dreams were beaten to death, and are buried and long gone; he's never gone back to lay flowers on the tombstone. He can't remember the last time he watched a musical, listened to music, sang or danced.

Well, that's not entirely true. His last moves and tones were performed with New Directions ten minutes before he had enough and decided to quit. They had performed _We Got The Beat_ right after school started again this semester to draw attention to the Glee club, practice on their public performances and maybe recruit new members. Kurt had been against the idea to perform in the school cafeteria, but of course their director and Rachel thought it was _brilliant_, and so they did. Kurt hadn't manage to put any joy in it. His moves were half hearted, barely there. His voice was hardly heard in the mass of the Glee kids, with Rachel's solo drowning out anybody else. The cafeteria had been filled with people sending him hateful looks, and he was the one who got the worst hits during the food fight after their show. Finn had helped Rachel clean up, Tina had Mike to help her, Mercedes got off easily because she was dating the linebacker Shane, and Brittany and Santana managed to dodge the spaghetti sauce completely. Kurt was stuck alone. Again.

But even though Kurt has done his best to put everything music behind him, some of it is eternally flowing through his bone marrow. That's why he immediately hears a soft, barely audible singing that doesn't come from the computer. The right corner of his mouth twitches upwards and he looks at Blaine amused. He is almost whispering his singing, but Kurt's trained ear can hear it.

"_Sodomy. Fellatio. Cunnilingus. Pederasty. Father, why do these words sound so nasty? Masturbation can be fun. Join the holy orgy Kama Sutra Everyone._"

"Do you ever analyze the lyrics before you sing, or are you that shameless?" Kurt snarks and startles Blaine.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was singing out loud, I'm so sorry!"

"Calm down, Blaine. You have a really nice singing voice. Do you ever put it to any sensible use, or do you prefer to chant dirty words?" Kurt laughs, even more so when he sees how much Blaine blushes.

"Great, now I feel like a rowdy creep. I just like to sing," Blaine sighs.

"So you should," Kurt hurriedly adds. "I mean it; your voice is really good from what I can hear. Does your school have a Glee club?"

"It does, but I never joined. Stage fright," Blaine says a bit snappish, and Kurt easily gets there's a story behind it. "I'm sorry," Blaine adds sadly.

"Save it for some time you've actually done something," Kurt says with a breeze to his voice, making Blaine chuckle slightly.

The movie draws to its end, and Blaine has been humming and singing to some of the songs, voice hardly audible. Kurt resists for the longest time, but when the cute _Good Morning Starshine_ is being sung, Kurt can't help himself, and adds a backing vocal for Blaine. They giggle as they sing the chorus together.

"_Gliddy gloop gloopy. Nibby nobby nooby. __La la la lo lo. Sabba sibby sabba. Nooby abba dabba. __Le le lo lo. Dooby ooby walla, dooby abba dabba. Early morning singing song!_"

The movie ends, and they stay silent for a while, letting it sink in. Blaine shuts down the laptop, to save some battery for the English paper he's working on.

"I bought a new CD yesterday, do you mind if I play it?"

"Oh, I should leave, I've intruded far too long," Kurt hurries, swinging his legs out of bed.

"Nonsense, I like spending time with you. I heard literally thirty seconds of it yesterday, and just had to buy it. What kind of music do you listen to?" Blaine asks, as he gets up from bed to retrieve the plastic bag from the day before.

"Umm, I really don't listen to music," Kurt answers truthfully. He's tried to erase it completely out of his life.

"Oh," Blaine answers surprised. He finds it hard someone singing as good as Kurt isn't interested in music, and clearly he knew the lyrics to the Hair-songs. But he doesn't want to pry for the story behind.

"Well, let me know if you hate this, and I'll turn it off," Blaine says, and hits play on his CD-player.

"So I have to ask. How come you have a CD-player in here? Wouldn't the power cord be considered a threat and thus illegal?"

"That's why my friends bought me a battery driven CD-player," Blaine smiles.

"Your friends seem to care a lot about you."

"They do," Blaine gushes. "I owe them so much."

"You must be quite open with them about this place for them to get you such a perfectly fitting gift."

"I am," Blaine says, shrugging his shoulders as if it isn't a big deal. "I have four close friends, and I trust them with anything. I think they know me better than doctor Whimchester does, and I try to be as open and honest as possible. It's easier for them to help me when they know details."

"I haven't really told anyone anything," Kurt admits. "Who is this artist, by the way, her voice is amazing!" he praises.

"It's Lana del Rey, her first CD, and I know! Do you have friends close enough to confide with?"

"I don't know…"

"Who were the two guys visiting you the other day?" Blaine asks carefully, not wanting to trigger anything.

"The tallest is my brother. Or really he's my step brother; I think I told you already. It's all so new and unfamiliar, so he doesn't feel like a sibling I can drown with all my problems. I know he cares, but of course you'll learn to care about someone you live with. I'm not exactly the kind of brother he signed up for when our parents started dating," Kurt sighs.

"And the mohawk?"

"That would be Puck. It's… complicated. Not in that way," he hurriedly adds when he sees Blaine's questioning face. "He's Finn's best friend, and they used to bully me. Then something changed, and we became sort of friends. Then something changed, and now we're kind of acquaintances? I think he regrets what he did, so he and Finn sometimes launch their overprotective mode."

"Something changed?"

"Some things change," Kurt says, and Blaine knows that's a story or two for later, if ever.

The boys don't talk anymore for a while, sharing Blaine's bed lying down, listening to the CD. Sometimes Blaine hums to a particularly catchy verse or a part of the lyrics that speak to him. Kurt doesn't. He just doesn't do music anymore, despite the slip up earlier.

Blaine's mind is on a run, spinning around and exploring his subconsciousness. It's evaluating this day. How long has he known Kurt now? A week? If he in fact can say he knows the boy. There's so much to him he can see the contours or the shadows of, but the whole story remains a mystery. Yet he feels incredibly comfortable around the boy. It took months, maybe a year, before he felt as relaxed among his best friends in school. He certainly didn't spend an evening lying down in bed next to one of them, watching a DVD or listening to a CD. And he most definitely didn't initiate a tickle fight with any of them until recently. Blaine's personal space has been important to him, and after the _incident_ he's been hesitant to have someone too close, and he's been reluctant to any physical contact. And yet here he is, with Kurt. It's as if the boy has taken a wrecking ball to Blaine's carefully built walls and with one swing demolished them. The scariest thing is, Blaine is completely convinced Kurt hasn't done anything deliberate to achieve this result.

"I know I said this isn't a place to make friends. But I think you might be the exception," Blaine says softly. "I'd like to get to know you better."

The two boys smile at each other.

"I'd like that too."

* * *

**Lyrics are from:**

_Sodomy_ - from the musical _Hair_

_Good morning Sunshine_ - from the musical _Hair_


	19. Creep

**AN: Thank you to everybody who's reading, reviewing and following this story! I know it's growing on some of you, and it thrills me! This chapter was actually quite difficult to write, so that's why it's taken me some time to update it. English is not my mother tongue, so I sometimes struggle to find the right words to express what I otherwise manage to say in my own language, but I'm sorry for the long wait.**

**I'd like to recommend another story I've fallen in love with, and will encourage everybody to read. It isn't completed yet, but so far it's so beautiful and tender, with it's fragile and hurt emotions and moments. So look up MoustachioPenguin's story _Dance With Me_.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Usually Kurt wakes up in due time for breakfast, but this morning Thomas has to make an effort to get him out of bed.

"You haven't slept much tonight, have you?" he asks as he observes Kurt. His eyes are narrow and blood shot, he seems distant and disoriented, his voice is raspy when he tries to greet Thomas with a "morning", and Kurt struggles to get the feet under himself.

"That obvious?" he grunts.

"I've been around, seen things," Thomas shrugs, knowing Kurt doesn't like to be put on the spot.

"Did you have any nightmares," he adds, wondering by himself if they should try the herbal sleeping pills tonight.

"No, I just had a lot of activity going on in my mind. Things I needed to think through and digest."

"Anything you need help with right away?"

"Nah, it can wait," Kurt shrugs. He's tired of thinking, and just wants to do something mind numbingly.

Kurt has spent the entire night going through what happened the last day. The basic facts – what was said and done, are easy to remember and go through. What occupy Kurt's major brain functions, are the changes he feels in himself. He's shocked and surprised how much he had let his guard down together with Blaine last night. Yeah, so he sought out the boy to apologize, but it's a major step from that to being in his bed in a tickle fight, telling him about himself, watching a movie, and freaking singing out loud with Blaine. How does the boy make him do these things? And the things Blaine had said to him, about him being strong and fighting? Is he? Has he still got some kind of spark? What would that be?

Kurt spent the night not only digesting and analyzing, but also searching himself for any kind of spark that could witness about hope, strength, willpower, dreams, or anything remotely positive.

His internal search ended without results, but he realized he hasn't thought about trying to kill himself again after he came here. Sure, he's been sad, down, petrified, angry, terrified, resigned, and emotional – but he hasn't felt the need to finish it all. Is it because he knows it'll be more difficult here, or is it because he has some newfound fight in him?

* * *

"Hey Kurt," Blaine greets cheerfully when Kurt joins the breakfast table.

"Oh no, you're a morning person," Kurt grunts and thumps his forehead on the plate.

"That bad night?"

"Have you ever tried to find that damn switch that will turn your brain off already and give you some peace and quiet?"

"Let me know if you find it," Blaine laughs humourlessly.

"Sometimes I wonder if there's some kind of devil sitting somewhere with a remote control, having his own kind of fun."

"It certainly isn't the most farfetched explanation I've considered."

"You'll have to elaborate on your own hypothesises, then," Kurt grins wickedly.

"Oh, I will. But first you look like you need some caffeine."

"You think?" Kurt snarks, making grabby movements with his hand towards the coffee pot on the other side of Blaine.

Blaine laughs honestly, while pouring coffee in Kurt's and his own mugs.

"One of my theories is an evil gnome who walks around, its mission being to bug innocent, adorable boys like me," Blaine explains, making Kurt snort.

"To make you more humble and modest?"

"Exactly!"

"Apparently we can drop that theory of yours, or the gnome failed miserably. What else have you got going?"

"Alien abduction, of course."

"Of course," Kurt nods seriously. "Probably linked to those weird crop patterns as well."

"Obviously. The green little men make them from human brain activity, so they have to make sure our brains don't relax."

"You are _sooo_ wise," Kurt sighs.

Both Kurt and Blaine notice something has changed between them. It's as if a tension has disappeared, and they can breathe more easily when they are together. It's as if they can lower their shoulders a bit, and stop constantly worrying about what the other is thinking. They got a lot out in the air yesterday, and know better where they have the other. Things aren't perfect, but it's still somewhat more relaxed.

* * *

The patients are starting to crowd up in front of the elevator, waiting for Thomas to take them to their gym. Kurt is in the common's room, sitting slouched towards the coffee table, elbows resting on his thighs, and he's shuffling through the pages of today's newspaper. A dipping in the couch next to him makes him look up.

"Aren't you going to join us for gym?" Blaine asks.

"No," Kurt answers shortly.

Blaine seems to be thinking for a moment.

"You haven't been to any of the PE-sessions, have you?" It's more of a statement than a question.

"No," Kurt repeats equally short.

He knows Blaine is watching him, while he pretends to be grossly interested in an article about the expansion of the local supermarket. He should feel uncomfortable, but he only feels mildly unsettled, anticipating Blaine's questions.

"OK," Blaine says.

Kurt looks up from the newspaper at him after a long moment, to check if he's still there, and he's expecting questions. Blaine is sitting relaxed in the couch, resting against the back, one leg crossed over the other. He smiles sweetly at Kurt, and Kurt returns the smile.

"See you later," he says, and gets up to leave because Thomas is unlocking the elevator door.

* * *

After lunch, Kurt heads for his room to do some reading. His head pounds, he's tired and grumpy after the sleep deprived night, and he just wants to be alone. He had returned his finished book to Blaine yesterday, and gotten a new one in the same series. Kurt mentioned to Blaine during lunch how much he enjoys the books, and how quickly he devours them. Blaine promised to give him more books, so he was stocked up in case of more sleepless nights.

* * *

Kurt leaves his index finger between the two pages where he's reading, and calls for whoever knocked on his door to come in.

"Kurt, hey, I'm sorry to disturb, but your visitors are here."

"My visitors?"

"Yeah, two girls, around your age?" Thomas looks puzzled.

"I'm not expecting anyone."

"Oh, I thought you were. Your father called and asked for their permission, I just assumed you were included in the plans."

"Nope, this is new to me. I guess I might as well see who it is," Kurt says and climbs out of his bed.

"I'll follow you," Thomas offers. "If it's someone you don't want to see, I can make up some excuse for you about an important and forgotten appointment."

Kurt grins.

"You're sneaky!"

"Maybe we should have a secret code word?" Thomas laughs.

"Shouldn't a man within your profession be able to read people good enough to see if they're uncomfortable or not?"

"Ooh, touché, Hummel!"

Kurt grins even wider until they're close to the entrance door. He has no idea who's waiting for him behind the doors, and he's nervous. Who can it be? Why didn't his father warn him? What's going on?

Thomas looks at him as if to ask if he's ready, and doesn't open the door until Kurt nods.

Kurt did not expect what he sees on the other side.

The two girls and Kurt stare at each other for half a minute, wide eyed and dumbstruck.

"H-hi Ku-Kurt," one of the girls smiles softly, and looks him right in the eyes.

"Tina!" Kurt smiles relieved. He looks expectantly at the other girl as well.

"Hey boo," the other girl says, but her smile is somewhat hesitant.

"Mercedes!" Kurt exhales. "Come in," he says, leaving the doorframe and gesturing for them to enter.

Tina is the first to step over the threshold. She walks towards Kurt, hesitates for a moment, before stepping closer into his personal space. She carefully lays one hand on his right shoulder, is still for a heartbeat to wait for Kurt's reaction, but leans up to hug his left cheek when he doesn't stop her.

"It's good to see you, Kurt," she says softly, her nervous stutter gone.

Kurt wraps his right arm around her waist, and returns the hug. He appreciates how she isn't pressing herself on him, but is giving him some space.

Tina steps back, and Kurt looks at Mercedes. She steps up to him, and takes both his hands. She seems to be struggling for words, but finally she opens her mouth.

"I love you, Kurt," she says sadly.

Kurt chokes on his own breath. He didn't expect that either.

"So," Thomas says to ease up the awkward silence between the three teens. "Unfortunately the conversation room is occupied the next hours, but maybe you'd like to go to Kurt's room to get some privacy?" he suggests.

Kurt nods.

"Yeah," he says. "We can be in my room. If that's OK for you?" he adds, asking the girls.

They nod their agreements, and Thomas offers to bring two chairs to Kurt's room. Kurt leads way down the corridors to his room. He takes in the girls expressions as they glance around his room.

"It's a place to sleep. If it gets too cosy I might want to stay here," Kurt chuckles awkwardly.

Thomas steps into the room with two chairs then, and a bag.

"I got this from downstairs, they're done examining it," he explains. "They are withholding some belts and stuff, but you can get that on your way back home again." With that he leaves them alone again.

"So…" he begins. He sits down in his bed, legs crossed. Tina and Mercedes climbs into the bed as well, ignoring the chairs, and sit down on each side of Kurt facing each other.

"Burt called me on Monday explaining you needed more clothes," Mercedes begins. "He thought I might know better what you'd like, and wondered if I'd help go through your closet."

Kurt smiles amused. He should have explained to his father he just needed sweats, hoodies and underwear. Not that Kurt has much of those kinds of clothes, but he knows Finn has plenty he probably could borrow.

"'Cedes told us in school, and I offered to help her," Tina continues. "Rachel wanted to help as well, but yeah…" she smiles smugly.

"Yeah, but no," Kurt laughs. "I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here, though, I thought dad would bring the clothes himself."

"Kurt, don't be stupid. We offered to go, 'cause we wanted to see you," Tina explains. "And we had a short day at school because of the holiday, so it's a perfect day for an excursion."

"Thank you," Kurt says softly. "Thank you very much."

"Aren't you going to see what we brought? Burt told us he is coming here tomorrow, so we could send a new bag with him if you miss anything."

"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," Kurt shrugs without checking the content of the bag.

"Do you want us to bring back home your laundry?"

"Umm, sure?" Kurt gets up from bed to find the bag with his dirty clothes, and places it by the door so the girls won't forget it.

"Kurt, how are you? Honestly?" Tina asks softly, but with a hint of worry, as Kurt climbs back to his bed.

"Honestly? I don't know. With the mood swings I've been having I guess I could give you ten different answers," Kurt says with a thick layer of self patronizing.

"How long are you staying?" Mercedes whispers.

"I don't know," Kurt sighs. "There's no rush, I think."

"Well, at least you don't have to deal with all the poor fashion statements walking around McKinley's corridors," Tina shrugs, trying to move the conversation in a new direction.

"Yeah," Kurt says, forcing out some laughter. "But tell me what you girls have been up to lately," he fakes enthusiastically.

Tina starts telling about relationship drama and song choice pains. Kurt notices Mercedes is hardly saying anything, and he doesn't understand it. She's been the one to text him the most while he's been here, but now that she's face to face with him she can hardly meet his eyes, and is uncharacteristically silent.

* * *

Without looking through the window in the door, Blaine still notices the light is on, so he knocks on Kurt's door. A bright, feminine voice he doesn't recognize calls for him to come in. Confused, Blaine opens the door.

He didn't expect the sight that meets him. Two strange girls are sitting in Kurt's bed, looking expectantly at the door. Kurt himself is sleeping, with his head resting in the Asian girl's lap and his feet draped over the lap of an African-American girl. It's actually kind of cute.

"Hey, you must be friends of Kurt. I'm Blaine," he politely introduces himself, and puts on his "keeping up the appearance"-smile he's been thought to use by his father. He doesn't offer handshakes, though, but settles with a charming wave. He didn't expect Kurt to have visitors today. It hadn't been mentioned in the morning meeting, and Blaine isn't prepared for this. He focuses on keeping his breathing calm, and forces his feet to not take him the hell out of here.

"I'm Tina, and this is Mercedes," the Asian girl answers, with a hesitant smile. "Do we know you? Or you us?"

"Oh no, you don't. I'm one of the patients here, and I just don't expect Kurt to fall asleep in front of anyone but people he trusts. So you must be good friends of him."

Blaine is feeling more ready for this game now, and is up for carefully examining his surroundings as his usual defence mechanism is. He's nonchalantly watching the two girls. He notices how Tina looks fondly at Kurt in her lap, while Mercedes stares at the floor.

"We sing in the Glee club together in school," Tina smiles sadly.

It surprises Blaine, he can't remember Kurt mentioning being a part of them.

"You're the one who sent him the wonderful flowers?" he asks, looking at the night stand where the flowers are. They're not as beautiful as when they arrived, but Kurt dried them after a couple of days, hoping to preserve them for as long as possible.

Tina smiles and nods.

"Kurt's unique, and we wanted to give him a similar bouquet," she blushes.

"He loved it," Blaine smiles, allowing himself to gush a little.

"It's good to see him get some sleep. He had a rough night," Blaine explains. His words are carefully chosen. He wants to make the girls understand he's no threat to them or their friend, he wants them to see he has knowledge about the boy not everybody will have, and he wants to show he cares about the boy to a certain extent. He wants them to see him as an ally; he's meticulously building a bridge between himself and the girls with well chosen words.

"He doesn't look like himself," Mercedes sighs, and it's the first words she's spoken while he's been there.

"People who come here have a tendency to not be quite themselves," Blaine says self-deprecatingly, to show he understands what she means, and to hopefully make her realize the seriousness of being in a psychiatric emergency ward. A part of him wants the girls to tell him how Kurt used to be, but it feels like breaking his trust and crossing boundaries. It'll give him some kind of upper hand, and he wants to be on equal footing with Kurt as they get to know each other better.

"I came by to give Kurt some books I promised he could borrow, so I'll just leave them here," he says and steps further into the room to the nightstand. Another step on the bridge, showing the girls he has something connecting him to Kurt. _I'm safe, please don't consider me a threat, I know you can't ignore me, but please don't hurt me._ It takes all the physical power Blaine has to minimize the trembling in his arms and voice.

"We'll tell Kurt you stopped by when he wakes up," Tina says softly, absentmindedly stroking Kurt's shoulder. "Blaine, was it?"

Blaine nods affirmatively.

"Pleasure meeting you, ladies," he smiles charmingly, and strolls out of the room.

With the door closed behind him, he exhales a painful breath, sweat pours out all over his body, and his legs tremble. He barely manages it all the way to his room, and collapses on the bed.

* * *

"What's wrong, Mercedes? You've been silent all day, and that says something coming from me," Tina says, voice laced with concern and worry.

"Don't you think it's a bit weird seeing Kurt again?"

"I thought you wanted to go with me?" They're waiting for the bus back to Lima. None of them has got their driver's license yet.

"I did. I do!" Mercedes hurriedly answers. "It's just… difficult?"

"He's still our friend," Tina softly says.

"But things have changed after… After he… did it."

"Does your Church denounce those who commit suicide as sinners?" Tina asks carefully, fearing this can be a sensitive topic, especially out in the public in a bus station.

"No! No, no, no, no, no girl, that's not an issue at all. He being gay is a bigger issue for them, but I don't listen to that, I think they are wrong in that opinion and interpretation of the Bible."

"You can tell me anything, Mercedes. You look so sad, and I thought you would be happy to see Kurt again."

A single tear falls down Mercedes cheek.

"I love Kurt," Mercedes whispers.

"And so do I. We're here for him," Tina says, and gives the other girl a quick hug.

Mercedes sobs loudly.

"Kurt and I are best friends. And I didn't see it coming. I didn't stop him, I didn't save him," she cries.

"Oh 'Cedes…" Tina coos, wrapping her arms around her friend again.

They stay still for a long time, just holding each other. Mercedes' sobs end eventually, and she leans slightly away to wipe off her tears.

"You shouldn't feel guilty about Kurt's depression and desperation," Tina whispers. "None of us knew, and none of us is to blame."

She looks right into Mercedes' eyes, making sure the other girl listens to her.

"Kurt shut down on us, it's been impossible to know what's going on in his life."

Both girls sigh deeply, and as a mirror they both look down, starring at their shuffling feet. They both think about how Kurt out of the blue decided to quit on New Directions right after this school year started. Even though it's been four months, they still have a tiny sliver of hope he'll come back. They know how much he loved to sing and dance, and the last time they talked about their futures, Kurt dreamed about Broadway. It doesn't make any sense him leaving them.

When Kurt left Glee club, he also quit the friendships. He stopped sitting by their lunch table. Eventually, he stopped going to the cafeteria at all, and nobody knew where he was. They tried to look for him, they tried to stop him when they passed him in the hallways, they tried to catch up with him by the lockers, they tried to make conversation with him in the classes they shared, they went by his house to invite him out, and they peppered his phone with texts and calls.

But Kurt hid well during his lunch and free hours, he avoided them in the hallways, he rarely visited his locker and by the size of his new bag they suspected he eventually stopped using it all together, he ignored them in classes, he sent Burt to open the door and refused to come out, and he didn't reply to their calls and texts. Initially, Burt had invited them in and sent them up to Kurt's room, hoping they could force the boy out of his shell. It had all happened gradually, it wasn't something that changed over the night. Maybe that's how Kurt had managed to slip out of their radar. After trying for a long time, they had kind of given up. Clearly Kurt didn't want them in his life anymore, and it was difficult to force themselves on him.

Before _the incident_, they still tried to greet him in passing, and some of them were still observing him from a distant in case they saw something that could make them understand him better. Finn was the Glee clubs best source, as he and his mother had moved in to live with the Hummel's. But according to Finn, Kurt isolated himself at home as well. He locked himself in his room, and nobody knew what he was doing. They never heard any music or sounds from the room, and he never wanted to join them in the living room. Burt constantly struggled to get Kurt to be a part of the new family.

"He's changed," Tina says after a while, both girls being ready with their reminiscence of the past months Kurt-affair.

"Yeah, Puck and Finn were right. He's changed."

"But it started before he came here," Tina adds. An image of the Kurt they spent the summer with swims in front of her eyes.

"Did you see how thin he's become?" Tina asks.

"I didn't notice, it's difficult to tell how he looks under the dreadful clothes he wore. I never thought I'd see Kurt among people in too long sweats and an oversized hoodie."

"The clothes must belong to Finn. But I saw it in his face. I wonder if he eats, he looks so tiny in the big clothes."

"Yeah, but at least we got most of those clothes with us," Mercedes grins, kicking at the bag with laundry. "Maybe using his old clothes we brought will do something to him?"

"I do hope it'll help him remember who he was."

"It's been some time since we saw Kurt sporting his fabulous outfits. He stopped using them at school too."

"He did. But still, he dressed immaculately, while now Finn looks overdressed next to him," Tina shudders.

"It doesn't look as if he makes any effort with his hair or skin either. I don't understand why we got the glass jars back from that nurse, but hopefully he'll use the creams and lotions they let him keep."

Their bus stops in front of them and the girls pay for their tickets and sit down in the backseats.

"I thought I was prepared for what we would meet after Finn and Puck told us about their visit," Mercedes sighs. "We have to save him, Tina. We have to help Kurt find back to himself, it can't be too late."

"It's not your fault," Tina whispers, taking Mercedes' hand.

* * *

"Come in!"

Kurt takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

"Hey Kurt!" Blaine greets. He's sitting cross legged in his bed, with a guitar in his lap.

"Hi..."

Blaine looks at him with a funny expression.

"Do you want to come in?"

Kurt exhales, and steps over the threshold.

"Margaret kicked me out …" he mumbles. "Said I'm reading too much, I should get out of my room and _socialize_, Kurt says, rolling his eyes and gesturing wildly with open hands.

Blaine chuckles.

"I think she wanted you to join them in the common's room," he smirks.

"That's not what she said. I'm out of my room, ain't I?" Kurt answers airily.

"And this would be the social bit?" Blaine asks amused, gesturing between them.

"If you don't mind? But I'm guess you're busy," Kurt nods at the guitar. "I'm sorry, I'll leave."

"Kurt," Blaine says stearnly. "Stay." He doesn't know where his confidence and calm voice comes from, he's usually not so authoritative with people, but Kurt obliges and slides over to his bed, slumping down next to him.

Blaine keeps strumming the guitar, playing a nonsensical melody. Kurt keeps watching him, with an odd expression on his face.

"Do you play?" Blaine asks, to have something to say.

"No. I can play the piano, but not the guitar."

"And you sing." Blaine doesn't ask, after all his two friends had told him earlier that day.

"I… I did. How do you know?"

"Your friends said you are in their Glee club." Blaine deliberately uses the present tense form in the sentence, to see what Kurt answers.

"I _was_," Kurt emphasizes. "I quit, but I don't think they've understood it yet. Although I don't understand how difficult the sentence 'I've had it, I'm out of here' can be to understand."

"Maybe your friends don't want you to leave them?"

"I didn't enjoy it anymore," Kurt whispers. "I… It's a long story," he sighs.

"It's OK," Blaine hurries; he doesn't want to upset the boy.

He's silent for a moment, but decides to push it a little.

"You sang with the movie yesterday, though."

"It's different… here…" Kurt answers, and Blaine so badly wants to think it has something to do with him.

"I love to sing," Blaine chuckles lowly, and his fingers move into another melody on his guitar.

"I don't hate music as a rule, so feel free to play anything," Kurt shrugs.

The melody vibrating from the guitar strings morphs into a new melody. Blaine hesitates for a while, but takes a chance and leaps. A song has been churning on his brain the last days, it needs to let out. Maybe it shouldn't have been in front of Kurt, but life's too short to even care at all, and all that jazz.

"_When you were here before, Couldn't look you in the eye. You're just like an angel. Your skin makes me cry. You float like a feather. In a beautiful world I wish I was special, You're so fucking special. But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here._"

The songs makes Blaine think about Kurt. Looking past his hurt, his struggles, his demons, his scars, his big clothes, and his tired body it's obvious that the boy is stunning. He's so beautiful. Blaine's never ever seen someone like him. He had been tense and hesitant the first days, and Blaine can still see how Kurt carefully navigates around in the ward. But he's had the honour of being alone with the boy, to see him more relaxed, being shown what he believes is a truer version of Kurt.

Blaine wants to know more about Kurt, wants to get to know him better, wants to explore him. He had been truthful the day before. He's convinced Kurt is a fighter, is strong, and still has that crucial spark. Blaine admirers him, and wishes he could be more like him. Tina said Kurt is unique, and that's the truth. While Blaine, he's nothing special, just a freak, a creep who can't find a place where he fits and belongs.

Blaine strums to the next verse, and almost chokes on his own tongue when he hears Kurt start to sing. It's almost a whisper, but the voice is still clear. It's a trembling, but he still seems certain as he pushes through the lyrics. His voice grows stronger and stronger, and when he comes to the chorus he's almost singing with normal volume.

"_I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control. I want a perfect body. I want a perfect soul. I want you to notice when I'm not around. You're so fucking special. I wish I was special. But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell I'm doing here? I don't belong here._"

Blaine takes over the next part, and makes sure he's looking right into Kurt's eyes as he sings the words.

"_Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want. You're so very special. I wish I was special._"

They sing the last verse together, twice, and Kurt's bright voice adds a higher harmony to their duet. The melody dies out, and Blaine lays down the guitar on the floor. He closes his eyes, swallows, and takes a deep breath before looking at Kurt again. Silent tears are falling down the boy's cheeks, and it's impossible for Blaine to keep his own tears back.

"Oh Kurt," he whispers. He rests a hand on the other boy's shoulder, and Kurt leans into his touch.

"C'mere," he offers, but is still surprised when Kurt actually scoots over to let Blaine embrace him. Blaine curls his arms around Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt's arms snakes around his waist, his head resting on Blaine's chest. Blaine is almost holding his breath, tears still falling down his cheeks, and he's holding Kurt close enough to feel the movements of his breathing, chest rising up and down. Blaine's thumb is absentmindedly rubbing Kurt's shoulder blade with small movements, his palm not lifted from its position. Kurt's breath steadies.

Kurt is asleep.

* * *

Lyrics from:

Radiohead - _Creep_


	20. Perfect

**I really didn't expect this chapter to be this long. I hope you don't mind!**

**Thank you for all the nice reviews and feedback I got on my last chapter, I really appreciate all my readers. This is a difficult and heavy story to write, so any feedback is appreciated, motivating, relieving and loved. Sometimes I wonder what on earth I'm doing, although I have the entire plot planned out. As English is not my mother tongue, I sometimes struggle to get out what I want to say. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or any other brands you may recognize here.**

* * *

Thanksgiving. Most of America have been looking forward to this day, and have big plans for celebration and quality time with their families. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, pumpkins, pies. All the good stuff, being happy together, football, Black Friday shopping, and every child probably love the Friday off from school and long weekend as well. Blaine has been quite aware of this holiday for the last four years, but not for the right reasons. As soon as he wakes up, it's as if the knowledge of which day today is boils through his veins and pinches his bone marrow. He's never spent Thanksgiving at Bellefontaine before, though, but he still expects it to be a rough day, and tries to brace himself.

He stumbles into his ensuite bathroom, and takes a long, hot shower. He knows he's tense, and hopes it'll help him loosen up a little. At least it may do wonders for his muscles and body. His soul and emotions are strung hard, and he just hopes today won't be the day he snaps.

Blaine closes his eyes, and lets the scolding water cover him like a hot blanket before he even touches the shampoo bottle. He focuses on breathing evenly, calming down and getting control over his body. He's safe here, and nobody expects anything from him today. Blaine will merely try to treat this as any other normal day, or at least as normal as they get at Bellefontaine. He exhales, empties his lungs for as much air as possible, before inhaling deeply. The steam filled oxygen soothes him.

He keeps his eyes closed, and lets his mind wander as he can feel his body slouching against the cold tiles, the water almost turning him boneless. Images of Kurt pop up behind his heavy eyelids. The phantom feeling of the boy nestled next to him, arms wrapped around him, and Blaine holding him. It feels good, and it's even better because it was actually real. They had had a moment together last night. Blaine had been brave enough to sing a song that reminds him of Kurt and himself. He'd been flabbergasted when Kurt actually had sung back to him. It had been so sad. Kurt shouldn't see himself as a creep, and Kurt should have a place in this world. It pains Blaine that Kurt struggles with this, because Blaine has the same issues, and therefore he knows exactly how much it hurts. Blaine doesn't know how to help himself, and thus feels helpless in front of Kurt as well. He wants so badly to see the beautiful face smile again, because he's just breathtaking when he does.

Blaine had been humbled and so grateful when the boy had fallen asleep in his arms. It's the second time that has happened, and Blaine takes it as a big fat vote of confidence. Kurt trusts him enough to let his guard down. Sure, he knows the boy's exhausted after a sleepless night, but he's convinced Kurt is as guarded as Blaine is, and pays careful attention to his surroundings before acting, and is constantly reining in on his impulses. Kurt had fallen asleep in the laps of his two friends, and Blaine takes it as a compliment he was in a similar position just a couple of hours later. It had felt so good, and not just for his self esteem. Holding the warm, hard body against his chest, listening to his easy breathing, smelling his hair, and sensing his heart beats against his own body. It has felt so comfortable, so natural, so safe, so personal, and so thrilling. Blaine had struggled to stay awake, and all but forced his eyes to stay open, to savour the moment. He wants to remember it for ever. He wants to bring back the memory whenever he needs a happy place. The mere existence of Kurt makes Blaine Anderson's life so much better.

He grabs for his shampoo bottle so he can finish his shower, and smiles. He has to get ready for breakfast. Hopefully he'll see Kurt again, and hopefully this day won't be so bad.

* * *

Blaine is nursing a cup of coffee, and deliberately drags out the eating-part of the breakfast. He still hopes Kurt will join them for breakfast, so he waits so he can offer the boy some company.

By the time Kurt enters the common's room, most people are done eating. Blaine's been shuffling the fork around on his plate with egg and bacon, moving the food around, cutting it up in smaller and smaller pieces. He drops his fork and it lands somewhere on the floor when he spots Kurt. That's… Quite the change! For one and a half week Kurt's been wearing nothing but too long sweatpants, baggy hoodies and flip-flops. Blaine doesn't know what's happened, but he most certainly approves. Kurt is sporting a pair of light grey jeans that makes Katy Perry sing in Blaine's teenage head. He already knew Kurt is taller than him, but these pants makes Kurt's legs last forever. He's wearing purple Converse shoes, and a deep green sweater that ends mid-thigh. It's nothing like the huge hoodies Blaine's seen him in. Although this sweater is big, it's still fitting, and sits snugly over Kurt's chest and arms. Blaine is dumbstruck, and doesn't know how to make his vocal chords cooperate. He can only observe how Kurt hesitantly crosses the room, and glides into the chair next to him.

"Good morning," Kurt whispers, and Blaine is surprised to hear the waver in his voice. Didn't he get enough sleep this night? Is he having a bad morning? What's happened for Kurt to look so uncertain? The clothes are fabulous, but the boy wearing them looks as if he wants to disappear. He actually looks uncomfortable.

"Good morning," Blaine smiles back, a little too late, and he realizes Kurt has caught him staring. The other boy is studying the hands resting in his lap, avoiding looking at the few people still sitting by the table.

"You look amazing," Blaine leans in to whisper in Kurt's ear. His head snaps up, and he stares wide eyed at Blaine. "This style suits you much better," Blaine continues, determined to make the boy smile. But Kurt only looks scared.

"I'm awfully underdressed, I'll have to step up my game for dinner," Blaine ploughs on, and pulls on his plain t-shirt to show what he means. Kurt still doesn't smile, but there's a twinkle in his eyes.

"I've never quite figured out how to accessorize when the main guest of the evening is a dead turkey," Kurt shrugs.

"Bowties," Blaine instantly replies. "Bowties are the new black."

"Oh really?" Kurt shakes his head in disbelief, but there's a tiny smile threatening to burst.

"You can come by my room later, and I'll show you an excerpt of my bowtie selection," Blaine offers, grinning.

That makes Kurt laugh out loud.

"Really, Blaine? What happened to the good ol' stamp collection?"

Blaine blushes, but smiles back.

"I don't like to be predictable," he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kurt bumps his fist on Blaine's shoulder, still smiling.

"Offer a guy some coffee, and we'll see what happens later," he winks. Blaine almost spills his own mug of coffee in the rush to cater for his request.

Kurt and Blaine finish their breakfast, and pop over to the couches for the morning meeting. It's a quick affair today, as they're having a laidback day because of the holiday. They have arts and crafts in one and a half hour, and Christy assures them doctor Whimchester is available if somebody needs him, and the other staff at the ward isn't enough.

Yosef, Sarah, Jenny, and Sandy are leaving as soon as the morning meeting finishes. That leaves only Izabella, Kurt and Blaine as patients in the ward for the day.

"Kurt, your parents will be here to visit at noon. Izabella, your sister will be here to see you at 10:30. You both have to decide if you want to go out with your family, or stay here," Christy explains.

The morning meeting comes to an end, and those who are going home bid their goodbyes.

* * *

"Do you want to puzzle this with me?"

Blaine pulls out a big box from the bookshelf next to the couch. Kurt quickly examines the lid. It shows a picture of a lit Brooklyn bridge in the night, and it's a 2.000 pieces puzzle.

"Sure, why not?"

"Do you want to join as well?" Blaine asks Izabella, who's still sitting by the coffee table.

She shakes her head vigorously.

"I need to get ready. But thanks," she says softly, one of the few sentences she's volunteered during her stay. She gets up and leaves.

"So, it's just you and me then. Do you think we'll manage to solve this?"

Kurt huffs.

"I never waste time on projects I don't intend to finish."

He sounds offended, but Blaine can see the smile in his eyes.

"Starting with the frame?"

"Are there any other ways?"

Blaine chuckles, and takes off the lid. The two boys start digging for the pieces with one straight side and make a pile of them. The four corners are put aside in their own tiny pile.

They are left alone in the room, the staff has gone to write reports, do the dishes or whatever awaiting tasks they have. That's why Blaine decides to take a chance on asking something personal, something he otherwise only would have asked Kurt in one of their rooms.

"Kurt, you don't have to answer, but I want to ask you something."

Blaine can see the other boy hesitates, but finally he nods.

"I just wonder where you stand in regards to music. I'm confused. Your friends said you _are_ a part of their choir, while you talk about it as it's your past. You said you didn't enjoy it anymore, but you also said it's different here."

"Blaine…" Kurt says, and Blaine can hear the warning in his voice. He crossed a boundary.

"As I said, you don't have to answer," Blaine adds hurriedly.

Kurt sighs.

"It's a long story…" he says evasively.

Blaine doesn't say anything, but just continues to look for the puzzle pieces they're collecting. He'll give Kurt all the space he needs.

"I was trying to survive," Kurt says after a while, clearly looking for the right words.

"Music meant the world to me... I loved being a part of the Glee club." Tears are falling down from Kurt's eyes, and Blaine puts a hand to rest on Kurt's lower back for comfort, while continuing to look for the right puzzle pieces.

"They are the bottom of the food chain in school, if they're even considered part of the chain at all. I couldn't take it anymore. I… I tried to make school easier. So I quit, and changed a lot of other things that gave me trouble, made me stand out as a target. I know I'm a coward…" he mumbles.

Blaine swallows hard. Kurt doesn't have to say it out loud; already during one of his first days Blaine recognized the signs of being bullied. Obviously it gave him a really rough time, if he tried to change to avoid it. Images from repressed memories flash in front of Blaine's eyes, and he blinks to force them away. He scoots closer, and moves the hand on Kurt's back to rest around the boy's waist.

"You're no coward. You're fighting, Kurt, you tried to make your own life better. That takes strength; not cowardice."

Kurt laughs humourlessly.

"It sure doesn't feel like strength to change from what others hate you for being, and still fail in making things better."

"I know. But we can't win every battle, and not all battles are ours to fight."

Kurt stays silent for a long time, and lets his hands wander aimlessly in the box to get out the straight sided puzzle pieces.

"You don't judge me," Kurt eventually whispers. "You don't force me, you don't look down on me, you don't mock me for my voice, and you don't make me feel stupid."

"I would never do that!" Blaine says hoarsely, he can't believe Kurt expects people to be that cruel. Then again, Blaine knows people can be that cruel.

"I guess I feel kind of comfortable around you, and you made me drop my guard for a moment. My love for music isn't completely dead, and I guess I slipped, longing too much for singing," Kurt says with a quiver in his voice. "I'm sorry," he adds, looking apologetically at Blaine.

Blaine takes a firm hold of Kurt's hands.

"Kurt, listen to me."

Blaine doesn't continue until Kurt looks at him. He lets go of one of Kurt's hands to dry some tears off of the boy's face with his thumb, and cups Kurt's cheek, gently encouraging him to look at Blaine.

"Kurt, don't you dare ever apologizing again for singing. Your voice is amazing, and I take it as a compliment and an honour you felt safe enough to sing around me."

Kurt is leaning slightly into the touch, and looking at Blaine with watery eyes. He still looks beautiful, and Blaine restricts himself to not do or say something rushed.

"Thank you," Kurt says, not looking away from Blaine. His eyes flicker between Blaine's eyes and lips, though, and before he realizes what he's doing, Blaine has closed some of the distance between their faces. He can feel puffs of Kurt's breath against his own skin. It's as a caress. He wants more. He inhales deeply.

"Hey Kurt, have you decided what you want to do when your parents are here?" Thomas bursts cheerfully into the living room, and the boys jump apart.

"Oh, um… Yes, no, we'll stay here," Kurt rambles, clearly surprised.

"OK, great, we just need to know," Thomas says more sombre. "I'll let you guys be," he says strained, and leaves the room.

The boys are silent for a while, sharing an awkward moment. Blaine turns towards the coffee table again, and begins puzzling the frame.

"Are you looking forward seeing your father again?"

"Yeah, I really do. We're close and it's weird not talking with him every day, so this will be nice," Kurt smiles, and as if nothing ever happened, the weirdness between them dissipates.

They continue in a comfortable silence with puzzling the pieces together, and the shape of a frame is emerging.

"If you'll excuse me," Blaine says after a while, and leaves Kurt alone. He's gotten an idea, and has to check with Matthew if it's doable.

* * *

Five minutes before the arts and crafts-group is supposed to begin, Blaine decides to include Kurt in his potential scheming. They have finished the frame, and are trying to piece together parts and areas of the night motive.

"Kurt?" he asks eagerly.

"Yes Blaine?" Kurt replies, and Blaine thinks he can hear some amusement in his voice.

"We'll be the only one for arts and crafts today. How do you feel about that activity?"

"Considering we ended up playing _five in a row_ the last time, I would say it isn't crucial to me," Kurt smirks, and Blaine can't help but laugh.

"The thing is, there's a piano in the basement, so I wondered if you'd like to join me to fool around with it instead?"

Kurt doesn't answer immediately, so Blaine continues his explanation.

"I thought since it's just the two of us, it's a possibility to play and sing some more, have some fun. We're usually not allowed to be there without supervision, but Matthew said he could make an exception for us today, as long as the equipment room is locked."

Kurt still doesn't say anything, and Blaine is beginning to regret the suggestion.

"It was just an idea, don't feel pressured to do anything," he says lowly.

"Blaine," Kurt says breathlessly, and startles him as he places a gentle hand on Blaine's elbow. "I can't promise I'll be able to sing anything, I don't think I can force it out. But that's so sweet of you to suggest."

"So you'll sing with me?" Blaine asks carefully, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"I'll join you by the piano," Kurt corrects him, but smiles, and Blaine beams back at him.

"Come on, then, Matthew will be waiting for us by the elevator."

Blaine is almost skipping to the gym, where the grand piano is. He can't wait to hear what songs Kurt will hopefully be singing with him. Matthew unlocks the door for them, and agrees to come back in an hour.

"You have the phone number to the staff room if you need us?" he double checks with Blaine, and he nods. Matthew then locks the elevator door, so they can't use it to get to another floor, and steps up the stairs to get back to the main floor of the ward.

Blaine darts through the door to sit down by the piano. It's been ages since he's played, and he can't wait to feel the keys under his fingers again. He's almost by the piano bench when he realizes Kurt is still in the hallway.

"Kurt, what's up?" He jogs back to the boy, curious about what's occupying him.

"There's a reason why I haven't been joining you guys for PE," Kurt says with a clipped voice. He's determinedly avoiding Blaine's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

"It's not your fault, I'm not mad at you," Kurt interrupts. "I'm just… Looking for that strength you keep talking about."

Blaine takes Kurt's hands in his.

"Courage," he smiles.

Kurt snorts.

"I haven't been in a gym for ages. The jocks in school, they… I can't stand the smell of lockers, and I've been avoiding the gym. Trying to stay safe, not get in any trouble."

"There are no lockers here, and the equipment is stored in another room. The gym here is a big, empty room with a piano. Think of it… as a dance studio," Blaine suggests, thinking maybe that's something the former Glee member will feel more comfortable with.

Kurt peeks through the door behind Blaine's back.

"I could try that…"

"Courage," Blaine repeats with a smile and walks backwards, still holding Kurt's hands.

Kurt laughs nervously, but he doesn't let go of Blaine's hands, and Blaine counts that as a victory.

They sit down close on the piano bench.

"Any requests?"

"No. No, play whatever you want."

Blaine really doesn't have to think for long, because there's only one song that can be suitable right now. He begins the intro on the piano.

"_Made a wrong turn, once or twice. Dug my way out, blood and fire. Bad decisions, that's alright. Welcome to my silly life._"

Blaine thinks he's sharing some of the struggles Kurt is facing. Blaine has fought, and he's still fighting his way through it, finding his way out. He's still working on trying to accept himself, though, accepting his life, and accepting the mistakes he's made. And some of his battle is also to realize that it isn't all mistakes. Even though others see them as bad decisions, it isn't always his fault.

"_Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood. Miss, no way it's all good, it didn't slow me down. Mistaken, always second guessing. Underestimated, look, I'm still around._"

It hasn't always been easy, and he's been fighting against his school, his family, and against himself. But at least he's still fighting, he hasn't given up yet. Life has thrown him so many lemons, and it has taken time for Blaine to learn the recipe for lemonade. But he's working on it, and he's longing for the day he can flip everybody who's ever belittled him the finger.

"_Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel Like you're less than, less than perfect. Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel Like you're nothing you are perfect to me._"

Yeah, so Blaine can't lie to himself. He's singing this to Kurt. Amazing, beautiful, stunning Kurt. He keeps staring at the piano keys until there's no more sound resonating from the chords. Then he hesitantly tilts his face towards Kurt. He lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding when he sees Kurt is smiling.

"I may have a new favourite song," Kurt smiles coyly, and he's so freaking adorable when he blushes. Blaine just wants to hold him tight, take him to somewhere soft and warm where they can escape the world and just be themselves together, watching musicals and singing, talking and for once enjoy their lives.

Kurt is sitting on Blaine's right side, and is playing with the keys on the next octave. It takes some time before Blaine recognizes it as a melody, but he grins when the light bulb pops up over his head.

Kurt nods at him, as if to say he should sing, so Blaine begins with the first verse.

"_So you say it's not okay to be gay. Well, I think you're just evil. You're just some racist who can't tie my laces. Your point of view is medieval._"

Kurt joins him for the choruses, and they belt out together, ignoring pitch and resonance, and just spitting out the words with wide grins on their faces.

"_Fuck you, fuck you very, very much. 'Cause we hate what you do. And we hate your whole crew. So please don't stay in touch. Fuck you, fuck you very, very much. 'Cause your words don't translate And it's getting quite late. So please don't stay in touch._"

They both giggle as they shout out "fuck you's", and they hardly manage to finish the song. Kurt's fingers stumble along the keys, and Blaine is clutching to the other boys' shoulders to stop himself from falling off the bench. Eventually their giggles dissolve, and Kurt continues to play another song. They sing it together, switching between who leads and who does harmonies. Blaine can't sit still, and gets up to dance around in the room. He jumps on top of the piano, landing on his knees. Kurt tries to swat him away, but Blaine lies down on his stomach instead. He reaches down with a hand to back up Kurt's piano playing in their improvised Beatles-medley.

"Anything you want to sing?" Kurt asks as the finale notes ebb out.

"There's this song… It…I…" Blaine doesn't know how he can explain how much he needs to sing the song, even though it hurts as hell to do so.

"I _feel_…" And great, now his voice wavers as well.

"I get it," Kurt says silently, and gets up from the piano bench. Blaine actually believes him, he's confident Kurt recognizes the haunting feeling of a song that needs to let out.

Blaine slides clumsily down from the piano, and sits down by the keys. He wiggles his fingers, as if to check if they can remember the melody before he tries. Kurt is leaning against the piano, with a neutral expression, and Blaine is glad he isn't rushing him.

Blaine's fingers are ready, and produce a tinkling melody, that grows stronger as he sings out his anger.

"_So unimpressed but so in awe. Such a saint but such a whore. So self aware so full of shit. So indecisive so adamant. So rock and roll, so corporate suit. So damn ugly, so damn cute. So well-trained, so animal. So need your love, so fuck you all. I'm not scared of dying, I just don't want to. If I'd stop lying I'd just disappoint you. I come undone._"

It's a love and hate-song, it's a song for Janus. He sings about himself, he sings about his parents, he sings it for himself, he sings it to his parents.

"_I come undone. I am scum. Love your son. You gotta love your son. __You gotta love your son. You gotta love your son. Love your son. I am scum. __I am scum. I am scum._"

He doesn't even try to stop the tears that are falling down his face. He can hardly sing the last words with his choked voice and tight throat. He stops playing, and lets the sobs rack through his body. He's beyond control, and hides his face in his hands. He can't see nor hear Kurt, but he's too gone to be able to care or be humiliated by this. All he can see, is his parents' shocked faces.

Two strong arms push him by the shoulders, straightening his back up. Blaine quickly looks up to see what's happening. Kurt is kneeling on the piano bench. He seems to consider something for a second, and Blaine can only look at him, fully aware of his red rimmed eyes, bloated skin and wet face. Kurt's face changes from hesitant to worried, and Blaine has hardly registered the change before Kurt carefully straddles him. He's leaning his back against the piano, and envelopes his long, warm arms around Blaine's shoulders. Blaine smelts into the embrace. A minor part of his brain wonders why he's letting Kurt take control of his personal space like that, but the majority of his brain cells convince him he needs to be held. Kurt is just holding him, but holding him firmly. Blaine can't prevent the tremors running through his body, and he knows he's shaking from the sobbing. He focuses on breathing evenly, trying to copy the pace of Kurt's chest he can feel rise and fall against him. He doesn't feel trapped. He can back away if he wants to, Kurt's arms are an offer, and it's an offer Blaine accepts.

Kurt is whispering words in his hair, but Blaine can't hear them. He can feel Kurt's breath tickle him, though. A soothing hand is slowly running up and down his back. Blaine's arms were trapped between their bodies, but he manages to unfold them and wrap them around Kurt's waist, getting even closer to the boy. Slowly, he gains control over his body again, and the sobs die out.

"Thanksgiving," Blaine coughs. "I… I came out to my family freshman year… During Thanksgiving dinner," he whispers to Kurt's chest. Blaine can't say anymore, he's impressed himself by being able to say that much. There's so much to the story, but Kurt understands. Kurt understands Blaine hasn't got a happy coming out-story to tell. Blaine knows he does from how he's tightened his arms around Blaine, how his breath caught on air, and how he's fisting the back of Blaine's shirt.

Eventually, Blaine has to get up for air, and he sees tears are falling down Kurt's face. Kurt's hands glide up his back, over his shoulders to his neck, around and up along his jaw, landing on his temples, and Kurt's thumbs gently wipe away the remaining tears. His hands are so soft and warm and tender and careful.

"You're perfect," Kurt murmurs. "You're so fucking perfect."

* * *

As promised, Matthew comes back after an hour. Both boys have stopped crying, but Blaine looks like a mess. Kurt had held him close until he had calmed down, whispering nonsensical words to him, hoping he'd relax. To see the distressed and hurt look on Blaine's face had pained Kurt's heart, and he'd done everything he could think about to sooth the boy.

He had been afraid of overstepping, and had hesitated to embrace the crying boy. But the pain he saw in Blaine's eyes had urged him to take a risk, so he had straddled him on the piano bench to hold him as tight as possible. Luckily the boy hadn't bolted out of the room, but instead let Kurt take control, and he'd been like soft butter in his arms.

Matthew unlocks the door to the elevator, and they step inside. The nurse is standing in front of them, with his back to them. Kurt can sense how tense Blaine still is. Nobody says anything, but Kurt is convinced Matthew had noticed Blaine's expression. Blaine seems even smaller than usual, his fists are clenched, his eyes are shut tight, and Kurt can see his jaw line is more pronounced. His arms are hanging down along his torso, but they don't seem relaxed. Kurt carefully reaches out an arm towards Blaine, and strokes his wrist with his pinky. Blaine is startled, and jumps slightly, but he doesn't move away, so Kurt boldly continues his gentle touch.

"Perfect," he mouths to the boy, when Blaine finally looks at him. His eyes moisten, but a small smile evolves on his face as well.

* * *

Burt, Carole and Finn are waiting for Kurt in the conversation room, and they all get up from the couch when Kurt enters the room. They almost fight to get to the boy, but eventually Burt wins and gets to hug his son first.

When everybody feels sufficiently hugged, they settle down on the couch again. Carole reaches for a plastic bag, and pulls out a Tupperware container, plates, dessert forks and a knife.

"There's no Thanksgiving until the entire family has shared a meal," she simply states.

Impeccable timing makes Thomas return with four cups of coffee at that moment, as promised. Carole cuts generous slices of pumpkin pie, and hands out to the three men in her life. She offers Thomas a slice as well, but he kindly declines.

"How are you doing, kid? You look upset," Burt says, knowing his son well enough to recognize when something is chewing him.

"This is an intense place," Kurt chuckles humourlessly. "One of the other boys shared a very emotional moment, and it's impossible not to be affected by it," he explains, not seeing the need to give his family more details.

"Is he OK?" Carole asks worried, God bless her caring heart.

"I think he will be," Kurt says, remembering Matthew following after Blaine to his room.

"But how are _you_ doing, son?"

"I got clean clothes, Mercedes and Tina came yesterday. Thank you for letting them rummage my closet, dad," Kurt says.

He doesn't want to scold his father for giving him the wrong kind of clothes. He'd gone through the bag of clothes that morning, and there weren't a single pair of sweatpants or hoodie in sight. He had gotten pyjamas, though, but otherwise it was nothing but underwear, skinny jeans, fashionable shirts, waistcoats, sweaters, and scarves. The pants hang a bit low on his hips; he's obviously lost some weight since he wore them last. If the girls had thought about packing any belts, he suspects they where confiscated so he wouldn't hurt himself.

"Kurt," Burt says sternly, and Kurt knows his father didn't come to get to know about his clothes.

Kurt sighs.

"I've stopped taking sleeping pills, because they gave me worse nightmares. I don't take any other pills at the moment either. I have some serious mood swings, but the doctor says it's normal for anyone in my situation."

Burt doesn't seem satisfied with the answer, but a hard look from Carole makes him drop it. He gets full reports from doctor Whimchester on a daily basis; he just wants to hear it from Kurt as well. And if Kurt is hiding something for his doctor, Burt was hoping he'd reveal it for his father.

"Carole, this pie is amazing, thank you so much for bringing it!" Kurt beams, making Carole smile wide.

"I'm glad, honey. Do they feed you here? Are you having turkey later on?"

They continue to talk and eat, enjoying each other's company. Finn talks about their upcoming Sectionals finale on Saturday, Burt talks about the garage, and Carole asks harmless questions to get to know her step son better. After two hours they have to leave, though, because Carole's sister and family are coming to the Hudmel's for dinner, and there are still preparations that need to be done.

* * *

Even though it's barely after lunch, it still feels like it's been a long day, so Kurt goes to his own room to get some rest. Before he enters his own door, he stares at Blaine's door further down the hallway. He wonders how the boy is doing. But dinner is up in two hours, so he'll see him then.

Kurt throws himself down on bed and exhales deeply, emptying his lungs for as much air as possible, before inhaling slowly. He feels exhausted.

What is Blaine doing to him? What is the boy doing to make Kurt act so out of character? How could he make Kurt feel safe enough to join him in the gym? How did he make Kurt ease up enough to let go and just sing? Kurt lies still for the longest time, trying to examine himself. He doesn't feel any regrets. It felt so right, it felt so good, it felt liberating, and for the first time since ever Kurt felt normal, happy, and as himself again. It's overwhelming, confusing, and scary.

And how on earth did it happen? How can a boy who may be as equally broken, hurt and damaged as Kurt make Kurt feel safe and confident enough to break the security rules he's laid down for himself?

Kurt hasn't spoken with doctor Whimchester in two days, so it can't be his doing that Kurt suddenly sang again today. He hasn't had any deep conversations with Thomas lately either. Mercedes and Tina had talked about Glee and Sectionals yesterday, but they hadn't mentioned with a word they wanted Kurt to come back. Maybe they've realized he's serious and really has quit.

Maybe it isn't Blaine, maybe it's the sum of the entire stay at this psychiatric ward in Bellefontaine. It doesn't make it less confusing, though, because as far as Kurt is concerned, he hasn't been through any kind of treatment or therapy yet. They are just talking about stuff, and the days go on one by one with their routines. He still doesn't understand how this is supposed to make him sane and healthy again.

The pondering and thoughts overwhelm Kurt, and eventually he drifts off to Dreamland.

* * *

Thomas wakes Kurt up thirty minutes before dinner is being served, and he showers quickly. A polite, well brought up part of him feels he should dress up for the occasion, but he still doesn't feel comfortable enough to flaunt his former, fabulous clothes. He doesn't know how safe he is, he doesn't want to stand out and jeopardize himself. He still thinks the clothes Mercedes and Tina brought him are too outrageous for his current liking, and it's a drastic change from the sweats and hoodies. So he decides to wear the same clothes he put on earlier, and not dress up any further for dinner, Thanksgiving or not.

Even though more than half of the patients have gone home for the holiday, it's still a big dinner party today. Dinner is an hour earlier today, and the staff for both the day shift and the night shift has come to celebrate together. Kurt guesses they are kind of a family in each other's eyes; it must be kind of bonding and intimate to work in a place like this. It isn't only the patients living here; the staff joins them for meals, spends time together for activities, and interacts a lot with each other. Kurt chuckles secretly. There are three patients there today, and still the staff will consist of six people during dinner. It does sound like overkill, but there probably are rules or whatever.

As mentioned, Blaine has dressed up for dinner. He's still wearing the black jeans Kurt had seen him in earlier that day, but the white v-neck has been exchanged with a black shirt – and a bowtie in autumn colours. Kurt gently tugs at it and grins wickedly, making Blaine laugh out loud.

"I'm so glad to be able to spend this dinner with all of you," Christy smiles, and Kurt can't help but think how honest the smile seems. He silently wonders if she has family back home waiting for her, or even celebrating on their own without her.

"I hope you all will enjoy the meal we're about the share," Christy continues. "You talked about being grateful earlier this week, but I'd still like to suggest we take a moment to reflect by ourselves how this year has been," she suggests.

Christy then reaches her hands out for Melinda and Matthew, who are sitting on each side of her. They reach out their free hands for their neighbours, and Kurt can feel Blaine slip his hand into his own. The chair next to Kurt is empty, so he puts the other hand on top of their united fingers. The three hands are resting in Kurt's lap, and Blaine smiles brightly at him. Kurt is relieved and glad to see Blaine seems to be feeling better.

Kurt closes his eyes to think about if he feels more grateful for anything today, than he did earlier this week. His father, Carole, Finn and other friends come to his mind. Even though things have been and still are rough, they haven't turned their backs on him yet. Kurt wouldn't have been surprised if they had done, because he's been awful at nurturing his friendships. But they are still here, for him.

Kurt's mind wanders off to Blaine as well. Not that he knows why and what it means, but somehow the boy has eased his way into Kurt's heart during these ten days since he came. At some level or other, Kurt has grown to care for the boy; that much is obvious. Kurt has always been a decent, caring human being. But lately he's been so depressed and down right exhausted he hasn't had any surplus energy to care about anyone else. But Blaine… Something's different with Blaine. Unconsciously Kurt squeezes Blaine's hand, and he returns the gesture. They look at each other again, smilingly. It makes Kurt believe that on some level, maybe, perhaps Blaine may care a little for him as well.

Christy gets up and starts carving the turkey. A stack of plates are on her right side, and one by one is sent around the table as she loads amounts of meat on them. Kurt is pleasantly surprised to see the amount, quality and selection of food. Hospital food hasn't the best reputation, but everything he's been served so far has been more than acceptable. But this table is decked for a celebration. Everybody help passing the various dishes and soft drinks to each other, and soon the only sound in the room is the clattering of utensils against the china, clinking glasses as someone toasts, and easy, harmless conversation.

After dinner, everybody gathers in the seating group, and Izabella, Kurt, and Blaine are given the task of finding something on TV to watch. They settle for some comedy everybody has seen at least twice before, but it's safe and trigger-free.

Halfway out in the movie, the telephone in the staff room chimes, and Christy disappears to answer it. Ten minutes later, she comes back, only to tell Tim and Margaret to follow her back to the office.

* * *

When the movie is done, Margaret and Christy politely ask Blaine to join them in the conversation room. He obediently gets up from the couch, feeling confused. It's not often they have any kind of therapy in the evenings, and for the staff to initiate an individual conversation something must have happened.

"What's wrong?" he asks as soon as the door is closed.

Christy smiles reassuringly at him, and he carefully sits down in the couch.

"Blaine, you don't need to worry, we just need to ask you a question."

He nods, still not sure if he feels calmer.

"You know this is an emergency psychiatric ward, right?"

Blaine nods again.

"That means if something acute happens to someone, they will come here."

Blaine still nods, he knows that's how all of the patients end up here.

"Holidays like Thanksgiving are the times of year when most family quarrels and conflicts take place," Christy lectures him. "Unfortunately, someone needs to come to us tonight, but all of our rooms are occupied."

Blaine nods to show he's listening, but he isn't getting a good feeling from this. He knows his room is bigger than the others, with the desk and all.

"We really don't like to ask this, nobody should have to share room when they are here, in a vulnerable situation. But this is an emergency, and I'm afraid we see no other options."

Blaine still nods, this is what he was afraid of.

"Thank you, Blaine, for being so understanding. We promise it's a temporary solution, until something better is possible."

Blaine puts on a smile. He isn't looking forward to share his room with a stranger. He needs his personal space and somewhere where he can just breathe and be Blaine. That luxury seems to slip away for a while now.

"So, we thought you'd like to choose who we ask to move in with you. Kurt or Yosef. You seem to get along well with Kurt, but Yosef is also a sweet boy we're sure we'll be a calm and easy roommate."

Now that Blaine didn't expect.

* * *

"What?" Kurt exclaims. Christy and Margaret look expectantly at him.

"I know this isn't convenient, but hopefully it'll only be a couple of days. Until someone is discharged, or there is an available room somewhere else."

"OK… But… I don't want to bother Blaine," Kurt mumbles.

"Blaine has already been asked and accepted it. If it is really important for you to have your own room, we will of course let you keep it, and Yosef can share room with Blaine instead. But Blaine preferred you," Christy explains.

"Oh…" Blaine wants him as roommate? "Well, I guess it's OK. When does this happen, what do I need to do?"

"Because of confidentiality, we cannot tell you anything about the one who's coming, except it's obviously an emergency. We don't know much about him, that's why it's important to let him have a room on his own for now. He's actually on his way, and should be here in an hour, so we should move your things right away."

"I'll help you," Margaret adds.

They exit the conversation room, and Kurt notices Blaine isn't in the living room. He hopes he really is OK with them sharing room, and isn't sulking or hurting the last minutes he still has some privacy.

Margaret and Kurt head for his room. He hasn't got a lot of things. His clothes are still in the bag Mercedes and Tina bought, as he saw no point in unpacking. The few toiletry articles in his wardrobe are quickly packed in the bag. His satchel with some magazines, his phone and some random stuff his father had chosen to pack is placed on the bed with the bag, and Margaret wheels the bed to Blaine's room. Kurt hesitantly follows her, clutching the plastic vase with the flowers he got from New Directions – because vases made of glass aren't allowed, since they can be considered a potential danger.

Margaret and Blaine move the big comfy-looking chair in a corner of Blaine's room outside, so that Kurt's bed can occupy that wall.

"I'm sorry about this," Kurt says carefully, and gestures towards the abandoned chair.

"Don't worry about it, Silly, I hardly use it anyway," Blaine smiles softly.

Margaret leaves them to go look for a curtain screen to place between their beds and a night stand for Kurt.

"So I've cleared out some space in the wardrobe for you, and one of the drawers is empty as well. The bathroom is through that door. Welcome, mi casa es su casa," Blaine smiles bashfully, rolling enthusiastically on the balls of his feet.

Kurt doesn't have the heart to tell Blaine he's kept all his stuff in his bags. Obviously, the boy had rushed to his room to make space for Kurt. Therefore Kurt unpacks his clothes for the first time since he came Tuesday last week. He doesn't want to disappoint the eager boy.

"So how about those bowties you bragged about? Or were you just trying to lure me into your room?" Kurt grins, as he finishes unpacking his own clothes.

"I think Fortuna helped me with the luring part, but I'll show you," Blaine winks at Kurt. He pulls out a black box from one of the drawers, takes off the lid, and shows Kurt. More than 20 bowties in various colours and patterns are huddled together.

"I usually take better care of them, but it's difficult here," he explains apologetically.

"You weren't kidding about having a collection, I don't think I've seen this many bowties before. But I don't think I've seen you wear one before today either, I'm pretty sure I would have noticed."

"I just haven't felt like dressing nicely or making an effort," Blaine shrugs. "It's so convenient to just put on something laidback. It really doesn't feel as if it matters, you know?"

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Kurt says, thinking about how much he misses Finn's clothes. "But you dressed up for dinner," he points out.

"Well yes, we did establish how to accessorize for a turkey, didn't we?" Blaine smiles innocently.

"You have your own shower?" Kurt yelps in surprise, as he opens the door. He thought Blaine meant to say he had his own toilet, but he actually has a decent sized fully equipped bathroom. Kurt places the few articles he really uses at the shelf, and comes back in to their now shared room.

"It's nice not having to fight with everybody else for a shower," Blaine simply states.

"Yes, I think I'm going to like living here," Kurt laughs.

"Are you in the mood for watching a movie on my laptop?" Blaine asks. "I had planned to watch something mind numbingly before going to bed."

"Sounds like an excellent idea. Give me a minute, and I'll be back."

Kurt darts out of _their_ room, and finds Tim in the common room. He asks for two spoons, which he gets, and then rushes back to his new address.

"My family brought this today, and I kind of got a sweet tooth from the delicious turkey dinner. Wanna share?" Kurt offers, and pulls out the Tupperware box with the rest of the pumpkin pie.

Blaine grins, and pats the space beside him on his bed.

"I think I'm going to like you living here!"

* * *

**Lyrics mentioned:**

P!nk – _Perfect_

Lily Allen – _Fuck you_

Robbie Williams – _Come undone_


	21. The New Kid

**Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing, I survive on these feedbacks, as it costs me a lot to write this story and update each chapter - I think this might be the most difficult chapter to write so far...**

**Lucie, I don't get to reply to personally, so I just want to thank you for your reviews here!**

***Hides shivering under a big rock, holding my breath***

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

The film is done and the pie is gone. Blaine yawns and stretches his arms in the air. Kurt sighs contently, twisting his body to work out the knots from lying still for so long.

"I almost fell asleep," he chuckles, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you awake," Blaine says shyly.

"I'm fully capable of going to bed if I'm too tired, so don't sweat it, Blaine."

"If you're sure…" Blaine hesitates.

Kurt just glares at him, and Blaine takes a moment to appreciate how he already knows the boy well enough to decipher some of his glares. This one means S_eriously, Blaine? Are you still going there, Blaine? _So Blaine laughs awkwardly, and scratches the back of his head.

"Do you want to use the bathroom first?"

"Sure," Kurt accepts the offer, jumps out of the bed, and disappears to the bathroom after a detour to the drawers.

Blaine spends the waiting time finding a pair of pyjamas pants and a t-shirt to sleep in. He scrutinizes the curtain screen, wondering where to place it. He finally unfolds it, and lets it split their room in two, between their beds. It makes the space between the beds a bit narrow to navigate within, but he thinks they'll manage. It's more important that he can offer Kurt some privacy.

Kurt exits the bathroom as Blaine is finishing adjusting the screen.

"Is this OK?" he asks and points at the screen separation their beds.

Kurt merely shrugs.

"I'm fine with whatever."

Blaine nods, grabs his sleeping clothes from the bed, and heads for the bathroom.

He takes a quick shower to release his hair from all the gel he's been accustomed to using, slips into his night wear, brushes his teeth, and examines his face in the mirror. He isn't particularly fond of what he sees. His hair is constantly misbehaving, is in dire need of a trim, and is impossible to make look any good, no matter what he tries. His eyebrows just look weird. He hates how fast his stubble grows; shaving is so boring, and he likes to have a smooth face. His nose is too big. His chin is so square, and he's always wanted to look… cuter. And his facial muscles make all this weird grimaces and faces, why can't he just look normal? And this is just from his neck and up. His body is too short. He's blessed with a toned torso, and it defines easily now, he doesn't have to put in a lot of effort to get muscles after all the boxing training he's put down. But with his wide shoulders he wishes he could be taller, to look more proportional.

Blaine sighs, ruffles his hair, and leaves the bathroom.

"Good night, Kurt," he quickly whispers as he passes the boy's bed, and slumps down in his own after taking the light. It's been a long and exhausting day. A lot of tears and pain, and a lot of memories haunting him. He had tried to get some sleep before dinner, but his mind had been super busy and kept him awake. It doesn't even take a minute before he's fast asleep now, however.

* * *

Kurt had almost fallen asleep while Blaine was in the bathroom, but when the other boy had whispered the three words he had drifted back to being awake. Kurt needs a minute to clear his brain and throat, but finally gets out a "sleep tight" to Blaine. He doesn't get a reply, though, and soon after he hears a few soft snores from the other side of the curtain screen.

Kurt lies still and stares at the screen. He can't really see anything through it in the dark, but he still thinks he can point out the silhouette of Blaine's sleeping body. Kurt isn't used to sharing room with anyone. Sure, Finn and he had done so for a while, but not long enough for Kurt to get used to it. He still feels a tad too conscious about everything. He's afraid to bother his roommate. The hospital bed makes a squeaky noise every time he moves, so he hesitates to turn around or adjust how his body smelts into the mattress. He's afraid of keeping Blaine awake.

Then his mind starts pestering Kurt, wondering if he snores loudly. Or maybe he talks in his sleep? Is he a sleepwalker? Will he do some funny or weird things that'll annoy or freak Blaine out?

Kurt tries to breathe as silently as possible, but his body itches to move a bit. He finally lets his body have its way, and turns around. He inwardly groans at the sound of the squeaking sounds the bed makes. He breathes evenly, but if he holds his breath, he thinks he can hear the sound of Blaine's inhales and exhales.

Kurt keeps staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything. It's late, or maybe even early in the morning, before he finally falls asleep.

* * *

When Blaine wakes up, he discovers a downside of having to share room. He desperately needs to pee, but Kurt is already in the bathroom. Luckily, it's easy to solve, and he heads out of _their_ room to use one of the bathrooms in the hallway.

Shortly after, Blaine is back, and he notices Kurt is already out of the bathroom.

"Where have you been?" Kurt asks confused.

"Oh, I just needed to use the toilet," Blaine shrugs.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine, I should have waited until you woke up, and asked if you wanted to go first," Kurt rambles, clearly upset.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down," Blaine laughs friendly. "You really need to relax while we share room. We _share_, so you act as if you actually live here, and not like you're some polite guest, OK?"

He looks sternly at Kurt until the boy nods in affirmation.

"Good", he smiles. "By the way, I was wondering. Would you like to get out of here and grab some coffee later on? We'll have to bring one of the nurses, but I know that's not a problem for them, and there's a nice café only a couple of blocks away."

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't feel ready to leave these walls," Kurt answers, gesticulating at the room at large.

"I understand. Maybe some other time?"

Kurt nods half heartedly, and unconsciously tugs on his shirt sleeves to cover up his wrists.

Blaine finally takes his time to actually _see_ Kurt, and his heart skips a beat at the boy's outfit. He's wearing the same jeans as yesterday, a simple black shirt, a metallic black tie and a steel grey vest who accentuates a body Blaine is learning to know he appreciates more and more.

"You look stunning," he gasps, and shakes his head to recover from his stupid. "When I saw you yesterday I just assumed you had dressed up for the holiday, but I'm starting to think you've upgraded your entire wardrobe."

"I'm awfully overdressed," Kurt whispers, wringing his hands, and Blaine realizes how uncomfortable the boy looks. He sits down on Kurt's bed, and the boy is squirming, standing on the floor in front of him.

"What's up, Kurt?"

Blaine never asks what's _wrong_, because God knows too much is wrong, and nobody wants to be wrong, and Blaine's decided for a long time ago to avoid that word as much as possible,

"These are my old clothes," Kurt whispers, but looking intently at Blaine.

His old clothes? So the sweats and hoodies are his new wardrobe? But why?

Blaine gives Kurt a confused look, and Kurt sighs.

"I've changed," he sighs softly, and the infamous light bulb pops up over Blaine's head. Of course. Kurt had told him he had changed a lot about him to avoid being a target. Dressing stylishly and fashionably might have singled him out, if his school is anything like the one Blaine went to.

"Oh Kurt…" Blaine sighs with sadness. It's easy to see how good these clothes fit Kurt, and how well he wears then. He can only imagine how important fashion is to this boy. It saddens Blaine that Kurt willingly dropped his wardrobe to more easily blend in with the crowd at his school.

"I told my dad I was in need of more clean clothes, but my friends came with a bag of my old stuff. I don't know why they'd do that; they have to know I've changed, but…"

"Kurt," Blaine says, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Kurt. "First of all, you look amazing, you do. Secondly, I don't believe you have changed. I think you're just trying to hide." Blaine places a finger on Kurt's lips to interrupt the boy's protests. "I understand why you hide, but it doesn't make me less sad. I hope you'll find the safety and confidence to be yourself again, because when you are, I'm convinced you rock the world!"

Kurt snorts and Blaine removes his fingers, allowing the boy to talk again.

"I miss my brother's clothes," Kurt sighs. "I stick out like a sore thumb."

Blaine pats Kurt's shoulder, and opens the wardrobe. He pulls out a pair of red jeans, a black shirt, and the box of bowties.

"Then we can both be sore thumbs," he offers, showing Kurt the clothes.

Kurt smiles so brightly it almost blends Blaine, but he still think he can see some moist gathering in Kurt's eyes.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to hit the shower."

Kurt aimlessly flickers through one of his magazines, but he already knows it by heart, and it isn't able to capture his attention. So after a while, Kurt decides to leave and give Blaine some privacy. It isn't more than about 20 minutes until breakfast anyway. He walks to the common's room, and notices a stranger sitting in the couch. It must be the newcomer, he thinks, as he looks too young to be part of the staff, although it can be hard to tell apart when everybody is wearing regular clothes. His heart is beating faster as he studies the burly young man sitting with his nose in a comic book.

"Good morning, Kurt!" Jenny chimes, making the new boy look up. He snarls when he spots Kurt, and Kurt immediately freezes at the sight of the boy's repulsed expression.

"Well, I be damned, of course a fairy like you would be placed in a nut house like this. But you know what, homo? I don't enjoy breathing the same air as fags, it makes me _sick_!" he spits.

Kurt can't breath, and is staring wide eyed at the boy. Thomas is preparing breakfast, Melinda is waking up the last sleepyheads, and he doesn't know where Matthew is. All Kurt knows, is that except for Jenny, he's alone in a room with a boy that looks like Karofsky's big brother, but with less brain to mouth filter.

He gets up from the couch, and he is tall, Kurt notices. Really tall, really muscular, really big, really determined, and really scary. He approaches Kurt, and Kurt isn't able to move a muscle, he can't blink, he can't talk.

"You," the hulk snarls, pointing at Kurt. "You worthless cockroach, you shouldn't be here, you should be six feet under," he hisses, pushing Kurt in his chest with a lone finger. It hurts. It stings. Tears are welling up in Kurt's eyes.

"Hey!" Jenny shouts from her position on the couch, but neither boy hears her.

"How dare you pester the air I breathe and the food I'm about to eat?" he says, head quickly nodding against the half decked breakfast table.

Jenny presses herself past the two boys who are almost blocking her way, and leaves the room.

"It's worse enough they forced me here, but I have to live in the same building as a butt boy, a fucking faggot, a freak of nature. I detest you!" he spits.

He shoves Kurt, and it's as if it snaps him out of his frozen stance. Kurt stumbles backwards, one step, two steps, then does a 180 and runs away. His feet take him to the room he's now sharing with Blaine, and he barely manages to close the door before he collapses on the floor, a muffled scream forcing itself out from his lips. Tears stream down his face, and he's sobbing loudly.

He doesn't hear the bathroom door being opened, and he doesn't hear the hurried foot steps approaching, and he tenses as another body all but drops down next to him and quickly scoops him up in a tight embrace. He doesn't say anything, just holds him close with one arm, the other hand gently rubbing his back up and down. Kurt has no control over himself, and clings to Blaine's shirt. He's pretty sure he's soaking it in tears and snot, but he isn't able to care about it.

"Hey guys, Jenny told me to come see you." Thomas' voice fills the room as he opens their door.

Blaine looks up at him, trying to communicate with his eyes how worried he is for the crying boy crunched in his lap on the floor. Thomas quickly steps up to them, and crouches down.

"Kurt, sssshh, it'll be OK, come one." He gently pries Kurt's fingers loose from the tight grip he has on Blaine's shirt, and carefully moves him away from Blaine's lap. Thomas gives Blaine a certain eye, but he doesn't need it, he understands he has to leave for breakfast; he has to get out and let Thomas deal with this. This isn't for Blaine to solve; he has no right to care. Except he does.

* * *

Blaine finds a free chair by the breakfast table, and helps himself to a much needed cup of coffee. Jenny is sitting beside him.

"How is Kurt?" she whispers, leaning closer to Blaine.

Blaine shrugs and shakes his head.

"Not too well," he whispers back, hesitantly, he doesn't want to say too much, it isn't his story to tell.

A boy Blaine hasn't seen before sits down by the table. He looks older than them, but Blaine knows that as this is a psychiatric emergency ward for youth, he can't be more than 18.

"Morning, everybody," the boy smiles. "I'm Seth, can somebody please pass the bacon?"

Blaine chuckles at the polite, but laidback attitude the new kid is radiating. He doesn't see the furious glare Jenny is giving the new kid.

Sarah joins them by the table, and goes for the empty chair next to Seth. The boy quickly jumps up and pulls out the chair for her.

"Thank you," she blushes.

He asks if she wants coffee or tea, and then pours hot water in a cup for her.

"How has your morning been?" Sarah asks Seth.

"I slept well enough, thank you," he smiles. "But this morning something dreadful happened. I stumbled upon this God awful fairy in here, but luckily the sissy got scared and ran away. Ladyboy, what a whimp," Seth snorts.

Blaine's jaw drops to his knees, and he has to look at the other people around the table to see if he really heard those words. Unfortunately, the amount of shocked expressions tells him Seth actually made that unforgettable, little speech.

Blaine frantically looks around the table once more, but Thomas is still with Kurt, and the rest of the staff is occupied with their own morning meeting.

"So, does anyone else want scrambled eggs, or do you mind if I help myself to the rest?"

"That's plain offensive!" Blaine burst out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want eggs?" Seth smiles honest and polite.

"What? Are you freaking kidding with me? You hurt my friend!" Blaine seethes.

"If you recognize your friend from my description, it can't be much of a friend to have," Seth shrugs.

Blaine jumps up from his chair.

"I'm gay, and I've met a lot of jerks in my life, but you are by far one of the biggest assholes I've had the misfortune to not avoid," he yells.

"Oh sorry, did I insult your little loverboy? You sure you're gay? You could fuck a girl and not notice the difference, for goodness sake," Seth sighs calmly.

Blaine has moved around the table before Seth has finished his tirade. He yanks the boy up from his chair by the collar of his sweater.

"You have some nerve talking like that. I would recommend you shut up and keep your opinions to yourself, as they aren't really appreciated here," Blaine hisses.

"Who made you king of lunatics?" Seth grins. "You know what? I would recommend _you_ stay away from my face, otherwise I can't be held responsible for my actions. People like you are nothing but insects, and I have to admit I was the kind of kid who enjoyed pulling the wings off of the flies."

"What's going on here?" Matthew asks as he enters the room. Neither Blaine nor Seth saw it, but Jenny had darted out as soon as their confrontation started, to get someone from the staff come help them.

Blaine immediately lets go of Seth, and Christy and Melinda enter the room. Matthew takes Blaine to the conversation room.

"What was that?" he asks in a calm voice, neither accusingly nor condescendingly.

"Seth is a homophobe, and he isn't exactly shy about it," Blaine fumes, pacing around in the room. "He kind of threatened me, and I assume he's the one who made Kurt cry his heart out earlier as well," he sighs, running his hands through and through his hair.

"What exactly did he say to you?"

Blaine gives a recap of the breakfast, including the polite and normal, well articulated behaviour the boy had shown.

"As a general rule we don't like the patients to get physical with other patients like that, but I can assure you this won't give you any trouble, Blaine. But from now on, please come to us instead. I'm sorry none of us where there during breakfast, we didn't know Thomas would need to stay that long with Kurt. This won't happen again, I can promise you that."

Blaine nods to show he understands.

"Now you go and join the morning meeting. I'll take Seth to his room and talk with him. He has an appointment with doctor Whimchester while you have your kitchen activity later on.

Blaine nods again, and they leave the conversation room together. Matthew immediately approaches Seth, and takes him out of the common's room, and Blaine sits down for the morning meeting.

* * *

Blaine tries to be silent when he enters their room, in case Kurt is sleeping. The lights are still on, but that doesn't have to mean anything. Kurt is tucked under his covers, lying on his side facing the wall. Blaine can't resist stroking a gentle hand through Kurt's hair. The boy stirs and turns slowly to face Blaine.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't." His voice is hoarse and whispering, his face is red and tear stained, and his eyes are puffy and shot. Blaine lowers his hand so it's resting on Kurt's shoulder. He doesn't ask how Kurt's doing, 'cause he's obviously not doing too well.

"We're going to make cookies and lemonade in the kitchen in an hour; do you want to join us?"

Kurt shakes his head.

"Are there anything I can do for you? You know where my books are, so please help yourself if you want to." Kurt shakes his head, and then nods, at the right places. Blaine doesn't want to pry, he respects him and keeps a distance, but he wants Kurt to know he's there if he wants him to. And they are sharing a room, so he can't very well ignore him either. Something happened, because no one can look that devastated without a cause, and Blaine is pretty sure it has got to do with Seth.

"I wish I could offer to leave you alone, but I have nowhere to go. Seth, the newcomer, is sitting in the common room, and if we have to share space I'll be forced back to anger management class." Blaine easily feels how Kurt tenses under his arm when he mentions the new guy, but Kurt still manages to chuckle slightly at the end. As if he doesn't believe Blaine has had anger management therapy.

"Don't worry, it's your room," Kurt mumbles.

"No, it's our room now. Equal rights, equal opportunities," he winks. Kurt blushes, and it does funny things to Blaine's stomach.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll take a shower and freshen up."

"By all means," Blaine gets up and steps away from the bed to give the boy some room.

Kurt gathers a towel and change of clothes. His toiletries are already in the bathroom, as Blaine had insisted he unpack and settle down yesterday. Blaine had even made sure to make space for him before he moved in. He didn't want Kurt to feel he was intruding. It wasn't his fault the ward ran out of rooms, and Blaine wanted to make the best out of it.

Blaine sits down by the desk to do some math. Kurt has to pass him to get to the bathroom. A warm hand lands on Blaine's shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

"Th-thank you. Thank you for earlier," he whispers hoarsely, before slipping into the bathroom. Blaine's eyes shine and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. He did something right! Blaine managed to help someone!

* * *

Blaine leaves Kurt to join the others in the kitchen. They are making cookies today, and Blaine makes sure to fill a big box for both him and Kurt.

Afterwards, Thomas and Matthew come into their room to have a talk with both Kurt and Blaine. It's obvious they don't like what they have to say.

"The staff has discussed the pressing issue in a meeting, and we all agree that Seth can't be here. Unfortunately, it's difficult to make it happen as soon as we'd all like to. Because of the holiday weekend, the process will be delayed. We're afraid he'll have to be here until Monday, as most wards don't want to deal with transfers during weekends. On Monday the regular staff is back, and then those in charge can do the paper work, and Seth can be out of here," Matthew explains

Kurt doesn't say anything, just sighs, and pulls the covers closer around him, sitting in his bed. Blaine wants to protest, but he knows the staff is doing all they can.

"I know this isn't ideal for any of us, and you'll have to let us know what we can do for you. Seth needs to be observed as much as possible, so it's easier for us if he's in the common's room with us. We suggest you guys hang out in here this weekend. You'll be excused from any activities, and we'll bring you your meals."

Thomas looks expectantly at both of them, waiting for a response.

"It's fine by me," Kurt shrugs.

"Can't this be solved different?" Blaine asks. "It feels like we're being punished."

"This isn't a house arrest," Thomas quickly explains. "We'll do anything we can to make this weekend easier for you. You don't have to stay in _this_ room, we just assume you're not too eager to be in the common's room with Seth either. We'll communicate and cooperate if you have suggestions or wishes," he adds.

"I don't mind," Kurt says softly. "I could need a weekend spent sleeping and reading. Sounds about perfect, to be honest."

"At least we have each other," Blaine sighs. "We'll make this work."

* * *

After eating dinner, Blaine suggests watching a movie on his laptop. They are lying side by side on their stomachs, with the cookies Blaine made earlier.

Because of the holiday, doctor Whimchester hadn't scheduled any session with Kurt today. Thomas had asked if he wanted to see him, and offered to organize an emergency session. Kurt had declined, but tried to explain through tears and sobs what had happened and how petrified he was of the new boy. Then Thomas had tucked him in bed, and Kurt had been dozing until Blaine came back.

"You're silent," Blaine asks after a while.

"I'm watching the movie."

"Are you really?"

Kurt sighs and looks at Blaine, shaking his head.

"No, I'm not…"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Kurt is silent for a long while, and Blaine just keeps watching the DVD, but he lowers the volume just in case.

"Seth, that's his name?"

Blaine nods, and mutes the movie completely. He then turns around to face Kurt, elbow on mattress and head resting in his hand.

"Seth is the spitting image of my biggest tormentor in school. This Neanderthal has made it his mission to make my life a living hell, so I panicked when Seth said some… unkind words. I'm the only one out in school, and the jocks…" Kurt chokes.

Blaine rests an arm on Kurt's waist, and it's as if the gentle touch calms him down a little. He tells Blaine everything. Every single detail of the bullying. From dumpster tossing to locker shoves, from slurs to slushies. He tells about Karofsky, and how Kurt had been singled out by him.

"I don't understand why, but he kept leering at me, stopping me in the hallways, and he often touched me in really disturbing ways. I kept waiting for him to hit me, but he only shoved me into lockers. I guess I should have confronted him and stood up for myself, but I never had the courage," Kurt whispers. "I didn't feel safe in school anymore. I was jumping at any sharp sound, I hid away, and dreaded every single day. I couldn't sleep at night, but I couldn't get up in the morning either. They slowly killed me, until I couldn't take it anymore. I only saw one solution, but ended here," he sighs, and shows Blaine his scarred wrists.

Kurt has been crying as his story unfolds, tears streaming down his face. At some point, Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms. He's holding him tight, trying to still some of Kurt's shaking. A hand is gently soothing and caressing him, slowly dancing up and down Kurt's back.

"Sometimes I wish I never was born. Or that I at least was straight," Kurt hiccups. "I feel so lonely…" He stares into Blaine's eyes, and notices how moist they are. Blaine clears his throat, looking for his voice.

"I know how it is," he says, and shares his story with Kurt. He tells about a Sadie Hawkins dance, he tells about the expectations to a first date, he tells about the butterflies and the fun, he tells about the hate and violence, he tells about weeks and months in a hospital, and he tells about physical therapy and long lasting pain until the doctor pronounced him fully recovered - physically.

"This is my fourth visit here, so I'm still struggling," Blaine states matter-of-factly.

"Things weren't as rough in school as it is for you, but the attack after the dance destroyed me. The police never found out who did it. It could be someone from school, or it could be some random passerby's. Neither my date nor I remember anything from the night, and of course no witnesses stepped up."

"When was this?"

"Freshman year."

"And now you are?"

"I'm a junior, but I needed a year to recover, before I transferred school and begun my sophomore year."

"So you should have been a senior now?"

Blaine nods.

"I'm graduating this summer. I can't wait to get out of here…"

"You'll make it, Kurt. You are strong, you are fighting, and you have love and support from your family and friends. You'll go far, Kurt, I can see it," Blaine smiles through tears.

"Do you… I haven't seen your…"

"You can ask me anything, Kurt," Blaine reassures, pulling Kurt a little closer to him.

"I'm thinking about your parents and friends, do you have any support outside these walls?"

"I've told you about my friends at school?"

Kurt nods, he remembers Blaine telling about how they support him, push him, and helps him.

"They're the best. I miss them and am looking forward to see them again, but I often talk with them on the phone, text them, and they e-mail me school work and notes."

Kurt smiles, they do sound amazing, although he doesn't understand why they don't visit, but he doesn't want to pry.

"My parents… When I came out to them that Thanksgiving, they needed some time to digest it. My mom came through first, telling me it didn't matter. My dad didn't talk to me for a week, but then he approached me with his new _plan_," Blaine rolls his eyes and wiggles his hand with jazz fingers.

"He made a plan for you?"

"My parents have always had big plans for me…" Blaine sighs, and he looks so sad. Kurt can't help himself, but gently runs a hand through Blaine's hair.

"My older brother ditched us, and ran off as soon as possible to be an actor. All the ambitions and dreams of my parents were dumped on me. They want me to excel in school, they want me to get an honourable education, they want me to land a prestigious job, and they want me to have a picture perfect family. I think they do love me, but they keep pushing me to constantly be better. I feel as if they're never satisfied, I'm never good enough."

Tears are falling down Blaine's cheeks by now.

"Dad doesn't have any big problems with me being gay, as long as I settle down married and adopt kids. But, he wants me to be gay differently."

Kurt just gasps at him.

"He's the CEO of some hot shot company with offices in several states. His new plan entails me to go to law school, and become a successful lawyer in the San Fransisco-office."

"But why do you need to be gay differently?" Kurt whispers, trying to digest everything.

"He wishes I was a stereotypically effeminate, exaggerated, secretly cross dressing for fun in weekends, flamboyant queer, infiltrating what he believes is the dominating San Fran gay community and attract new clients to the firm. Then I would be acceptable, an asset for the firm. He wants me to play a part, to improve the business."

Kurt is silent for a long while.

"That's… disturbing."

"He accepts me for most parts, and where I miss support it's because he's leaning on prejudices, stereotypes and his lack of knowledge. I don't know what to do, Kurt. I feel like some worthless pawn in his big chess game."

More tears are falling, and Kurt's heart breaks for him.

Both boys are crying, clinging to each other, holding each other tight. They cry for themselves, they cry for the other, and they cry for a world of ignorance and prejudices. They lie so close, as if everything will be better if they can elide into one strong gay man instead of two broken gay boys. They pull the other closer, arms around each other, somehow their legs are entwined and they stare at each other with so much hurt, longing, sadness, frustration, and desperation. But there's also a slice of hope: They're not alone anymore. They found someone else as well. They have each other.

They need this, they need to not be alone, and they need to be as close as possible. Hesitant lips meet, carefully greeting the other pair of lips, not wanting to intrude. No one objects, no one interrupts, and the hesitance grows to frantic needs. It's lips and tongues and teeth and mouths and wet and sloppy, sliding on tears, tasting the salt, it's hands in hair and on cheeks, it's roaming hands and clinging feet, and it's nothing like a first kiss should be, but it doesn't matter, 'cause a lot of things in their lives aren't as they should be.

Later, none of them will be able to explain how and who and why. Maybe it doesn't matter, maybe it was an unspoken agreement, maybe both took advantage of the other, maybe both needed it, or maybe their subconsciousnesses communicated the despair. But they fall asleep in each other's arms, in the middle of a kiss.


	22. Kurt's Songs

**Thank you to everyone leaving a review, favouriting, following or in other way showing their appreciation for this story! It seems a lot of you agreed on the boys kissing in the last chapter... And Seth is not a new favourite character among you readers, unsurprisingly. But he was an catalyst to get the boys kissing, though.**

**I answer every single review I get, but some of you left them anonymously, so I have to use this opportunity to answer with a sincere thank you! **

**_Lucie_ - you gave me some comments and questions I hadn't thought about, so that gave me more plot and material for this and next chapter. Thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I just borrow to play with.**

* * *

Soft whimpers wrap their way into Blaine's ears. The warm, solid body nestled in his arms twitches, and is shaking. Blaine's eyes flutters open, and he needs two seconds to remember. He's sharing a room with Kurt now, and they fell asleep in the same bed last night, after crying and… oh, yes, kissing. Blaine's heart skips a beat, and the inhabitants of his intestinal butterfly farm stretch their wings, pondering on whether they should go for a wild spin or not.

Kurt whimpers again, and he uncurls in one swift, surprising move. A dawning light peeking through the blinds illuminates the room enough for Blaine to notice how Kurt's eyes blinks rapidly behind his closed eyelids. His chest rises with short, quick movements. Blaine lets a hand rest on the other boy's chest, hoping to calm him down. He can feel how fast the boy's heart beats under his palm.

"Kurt," Blaine whispers. His other hand is gently caressing Kurt's back, up and down. "Kurt," he says slightly louder. "Wake up, Kurt."

Kurt doesn't respond, but twitches and tosses in Blaine's arms. He tightens his embrace to stop the boy from throwing himself out of the bed. It could happen easily enough; the bed isn't supposed to room two persons.

"Kurt, come on," Blaine coos with his indoor voice. "It's OK; I'm here."

Blaine can feel how Kurt's quick breathing calms slightly down under his palm, and he gently rubs over Kurt's heart with his thumb. He uses the other hand on Kurt's lower back to pull him closer. Kurt's whimpers die out, and Blaine runs his hand soothingly up and down the boy's back.

Blaine takes a deep breath, before he sings softly to the scared boy.

"_Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. If happy little bluebirds fly above the rainbow, why, Oh, why can't I?_"

Kurt nuzzles up closer to Blaine, and buries his nose in the dip between his neck and shoulder. The sleeping boy pushes one of his ankles between his, and Blaine lets him, so they can be even closer. Kurt's warm breath puffs against Blaine's clavicle, giving him goose bumps on his arms. Before Blaine has finished the song, Kurt is breathing calmly again. Blaine stays awake for a while longer, to make sure Kurt really is fine. Blaine's trapped the other boy's ankle between his own naked ankles, and he revels in the sensation of closeness and intimacy, even though he mostly can feel the scratch of Kurt's socks.

Blaine drifts off, with a smile on his lips.

* * *

The next time Blaine wakes up, it's because Kurt frantically tries to tear himself from Blaine's embrace, and thanks to his intense effort he rolls out of bed, nose diving to the floor.

"What's going on, Kurt?" he asks worried.

"I slept with you!" Kurt looks at him with big, scared eyes, scrambling to a sitting position.

"No, you didn't," Blaine chuckles, but he quickly shuts up when he realizes how distraught Kurt is. So he kicks off the covers and climbs out of bed, kneeling next to Kurt.

"We kissed, but we didn't do anything else. You've slept in my arms all night, but nothing more."

"I know!" Kurt shrieks, and he doesn't seem reassured at all. He turns halfway away from Blaine, and points at a small trolley almost hidden behind the curtain screen. It's decked with breakfast for the boys.

"Someone must have seen us," Kurt inhales, and Blaine worries he'll hyperventilate soon. "They saw, but what did they think they see, and they'll be angry, and I'll get kicked out of your room, and you'll get in trouble, and…"

He takes Kurt's hands, and squeezes them hard enough for Kurt to stop his rambling and look at Blaine.

"Don't you think they would have woken us up if whoever came in didn't like it?"

Kurt stares at him with scared eyes, but eventually nods slowly.

"Besides, we haven't done anything wrong. You had a nightmare, and I tried to help you."

"Did you sing to me?" Kurt asks, tilting his head in confusion.

Blaine nods.

"_Somewhere over the Rainbow_."

"I thought I was dreaming that. Thank you," Kurt says calmer, looking at Blaine through his eyelashes.

Blaine cups his cheek, rubbing a gentle thumb over Kurt's soft skin.

"I'm glad I could help you," he tells Kurt's lips, and slowly leans in.

Kurt jumps away.

"Morning breath," he whispers scandalized, clasping a hand over his mouth, and bolts for the bathroom.

Blaine shakes his head in amusement, but it's with an edge of disappointment as well. He really wanted to kiss Kurt again. Yesterday was intense, desperate, overwhelming, frantic, and more about comfort and closeness, than tenderness and intimacy. So he wants to kiss him again, gentle and properly. This time, he wants to really feel and savour it.

He folds the curtain screen to make the room lighter and bigger, and pulls the food trolley to position it between their beds. Kurt comes back from the bathroom. They had fallen asleep before they got to change into their pyjamas, and Kurt has gotten out of his crinkled clothes. Blaine picks out an outfit from the wardrobe, and quickly changes in the bathroom and brushes his teeth. They eat their breakfast in silence. It's mostly comfortable, but Blaine catches Kurt's eyes on him now and then. He's giving him the same shy and uncertain look he thinks he's giving Kurt at random intervals as well. Blaine had acknowledged they kissed last night, but they haven't mentioned it otherwise.

Blaine is woken up from his pondering by Kurt's clear voice, beckoning someone who must have knocked on their door to enter.

"Good morning, boys, I just came to see if you're out of bed yet," a smiling Margaret greets the boys.

Both of them smile back at her, greeting the woman in similar ways.

"Do you want anything else for breakfast? I gave you a selection, not quite sure what you'd prefer," she says and fusses with the trolley to see what they have eaten and what they need more of.

"Oh, this is more than enough for me, at least, but thank you very much," Blaine smiles honest. He's always been fond of Margaret; she's like a cute, adorable, and friendly grandmother.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," Kurt whispers shyly.

Blaine looks at the other boy. He's looking at his clasped hands in his lap, and Blaine can see he's worried. Is he still expecting someone to be mad at them for sharing a bed?

"How did you boys sleep?" Margaret asks with care and concern in her voice, as she gathers their plates and mugs on the trolley.

Kurt doesn't show any sign of answering, so Blaine does so for the both of them.

"I've slept like a log, but I sang a song and tried to calm down Kurt who was having a nightmare earlier."

"Oh honey, are you OK?" Margaret coos, and sits down next to Kurt.

"It wasn't anything serious," he shrugs. "I hardly remember anything from the dream. But it was sweet of Blaine to help me."

Blaine can hear a slight shiver in Kurt's voice, and is pretty sure it's because he's afraid of Margaret's reaction. The nurse picks up on Kurt's shiver as well, and pats his shoulder.

"Are you sure you're doing fine? Do you want to sit down and talk with me somewhere else?"

Kurt shakes his head.

"OK, but don't hesitate to let us know if you need anything, no matter if it's day or night. It's a good thing you have Blaine, but don't forget to use us as well. Although you looked calm and peaceful when I stopped by earlier," she smiles.

Kurt freezes, and stares wide eyed at her.

"You do what you need to do to feel better, sweetie," she smiles and leaves with the trolley.

Two minutes later Blaine hears Kurt exhale loudly, and the boy deflates like a broken balloon, slowly sinking down on the bed. He laughs, first with nerves, but then with relief, clutching an aching stomach.

"I told you," Blaine snorts.

* * *

Blaine's been working on a history paper the last couple of hours, while Kurt's been reading one of his books lying in bed. His legs are leaning up against the wall. Blaine had asked if that was comfortable at all, and Kurt explained it's both relaxing and an effective stretching for an inactive body cramping up.

The phone vibrates in Kurt's pocket, and he carelessly pulls it out, flipping it open. It's from an unknown number, and Kurt hesitates. He really hasn't good experiences with anonymous texts and phone calls. He seriously considers just deleting it. He stares at his phone for a long time.

"What's up, Kurt?" Blaine has turned around from his desk, and awakens Kurt from his zombie stare with his question.

"I don't recognize the number."

"Oh…" Blaine looks carefully at him. "Do you want me to check it for you?"

Kurt looks up, with big eyes. He remembers a lot of the texts he's gotten, with homophobic slurs and threats. He doesn't want Blaine to read those things. He doesn't want Blaine to see the awful things he's had to read. He doesn't want Blaine to see Kurt the same way. He doesn't want Blaine to read the text and say it's no big deal; Kurt is overreacting and being a sissy.

"No, thank you. I don't know what it can be."

"I meant we can check the number online. If you want to?"

Oh.

"OK."

Blaine types in an address in the browser window on his laptop, gets up from his office chair, and carefully sits down in Kurt's bed, but with a safe distance to the tense boy. He then hands Kurt his computer, so he can search the number on his own.

Kurt types in the digits, and gasps when a name pops up on the screen. He doesn't delete the text, but tucks away the phone.

"Kurt?"

"It's nothing, I'm just surprised."

"Is it from someone unexpected?"

"You could say that again…"

Kurt doesn't say anything more, but he doesn't seem too upset. Blaine pats his knee, and returns to his desk to finish the paper. Kurt disappears in the book again.

* * *

Blaine saves the document and turns off his laptop. He'll have to leave it in the staff room to get the almost empty battery recharged.

"I think I'll head out for my daily outing. Do you want to tag along?" he asks, looking at Kurt.

"No, thank you," Kurt answers immediately.

"OK." Blaine watches the other boy intently, looking for signs of distress. Kurt has just picked up a new book from the drawer, and seems to have disappeared in the _Discworld_.

"Blaine Cullen!" Kurt warns after a minute, without moving his eyes from the page he's reading.

The staring boy chuckles. Ironically, a part of him wants to lean over and attack the other boy's neck. Yesterday had been… It's as if an animal inside Blaine has woken up, and wants more. Yesterday wasn't enough. It's like getting your first fix, and instantly being hooked. He can't move his eyes away from Kurt's tempting lips, his face, all of the beautiful skin he'd like to discover and taste.

"Seriously, though," Kurt says, and looks over at Blaine, who hurriedly darts his eyes higher up on the boy's face. "I'm fine. Get out or stay, but stop creeping me out," he smiles.

"OK, but I'm bringing my phone if you need me," Blaine rambles, not quite sure why he needs to share that piece of information.

Kurt gives him an odd look.

"Okay…" he says, lengthening the vowels.

"So, yeah, I'll be off," Blaine waves awkwardly, grabs his coat, wallet, phone and laptop, and leaves.

* * *

Kurt finishes the chapter, and places the book on the nightstand. He lies still in his bed for a while. He sighs, but is determined as he retrieves his phone from the pocket. He doesn't hesitate as he opens the unread text:

_Porcelain, I thought you'd want to see this. Sue._

It turns out the text is an MMS, with a link to a youtube video enclosed. Kurt decides to trust Coach Sylvester, and hits play.

It's dark and the quality isn't the best, but Kurt can see some kind of stage, and the curtains are being pulled apart. He can't see any people, but a voice is making some noise over the speaker. They turn from noise to words, and Kurt is being welcomed to Allen East High School and the Sectionals Finale of the annual Choir Competition. A choir scurries onto stage, and the emcee doesn't have to introduce them if Kurt has anything to say. He recognizes them instantly. How many show choirs have a towering step brother and a rapper in a wheelchair?

Santana steps in front.

"Kurt, this is for you," she says calmly, and music fills the room. She sings solo on the first verse.

"_When you're down and troubled, and you need some loving care. And nothin', nothin' is goin' right. Close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest night."_

They have slowed it down to a raw ballad, brimmed with emotion. Rachel, Lauren and Quinn flank Santana, and joins in for the chorus. Brittany and Sam and Tina and Mike are waltzing around them.

Artie takes solo for the next part. Finn and Puck share the next verse, and Kurt remembers Puck telling Kurt to call him if anyone gave him any trouble. The entire Glee club sings the next parts together.

"_Now ain't it good to know that you've got a friend when people can be so cold. They'll hurt you, yes, and desert you, and take your soul if you let them. Oh, but don't you let them. You just call out my name and you know where ever I am I'll come running to see you again. Winter, spring, summer or fall, all you got to do is call, and I'll be there._"

They shuffle into new positions as the audience applauds, and Tina steps in front of the others, taking the microphone.

Kurt doesn't recognize the next song, but the melody is beautiful. He strains his ears to hear the lyrics, apparently they are for him.

"_I will tell your story if you try, but along with your thoughts a valley stay green, when the world you were born in changes with seasons. Will you run with this dream, will you run along, or will you run against and finally reveal why some die young. Why some die young. Why some die. Some die young, but you better hold on, you better hold on. So many things I need to say to you. Please don't, don't let me go._"

For their third and last song, apparently Mercedes is in lead, but it soon turns out all of New Directions are backing her up with sweet harmonies, making the simple song beautiful and tender.

"_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter_," she sings. "_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say, It's all right._"

Tears are streaming down Kurt's face, running down his cheek, along his jaw and falling down to his neck, soaking the pillow he's lying down on.

"Kurt! What happened?"

Kurt looks up from his phone to see a worried Blaine in the doorway. He tries to smile reassuringly to the boy, and scoots over in his bed, patting the space beside him. Blaine hesitantly approaches him. He places his laptop on his desk and two cups of coffee on the nightstand, before he sits down on Kurt's bed.

"I read the text," Kurt says hoarsely, and Blaine instantly clutches his hand. "It wasn't bad," Kurt hurriedly adds, shaking his head on the pillow.

"Are you sure?" Blaine still looks worried. Kurt nods.

"I got a film of my friends. They've participated in a competition with their Glee club. Would you like to see it?"

"I'd be honoured," Blaine answers humbled, but enthusiastically, seeing it as a chance to get to know Kurt even better.

Kurt wants to see it a second time, so they sit as close as possible to watch the tiny screen together. Kurt's breathe hitches as the Latina girl dedicates their performance to him, and Blaine watches with big eyes how they sing three songs to his roommate.

They listen to _You've got a friend_, and it's a much needed reminder for Kurt. He's been a terrible friend, and some deep buried logical part of Kurt knows nobody can blame him for his choices. It doesn't prevent the song from being overwhelming, though, and he chokes up again, new tears streaming down his face. Blaine wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Kurt rests his head on the other boy's chest, as they continue to watch the screen together. They want to be his friend, and they are reaching out their 12 hands, telling him to let them help him.

Next up is Tina's solo. She's always been one of his most honest friends, next to Santana, but with a lot more care. She's always been straight up with him and calling him out on his whatever whenever it is needed. The song could basically have been written to him. It feels as if Tina is encouraging him to give it another try, even though she'll honour his memory if he doesn't survive this. Some die young, but all of his friends want Kurt to hold on, stick it out, there's still so much more that have to be said and done.

After the honest, naked and personal performance, Mercedes' solo of _Here comes the sun_ is a bright and positive finale. Things will be better. If only Kurt could manage to grasp that thought, if only he could believe that. New tears trickle down his cheeks, and he has to hide his face in Blaine's shirt, he cant' take seeing more of this; it's hard enough listening to it.

"That's just… WOW," Blaine exhales. "You have crazy talented friends, who obviously love you a lot."

Blaine recognized both Kurt's step brother and the Mohawk who visited once, and the two girls Mercedes and Tina from a couple of days ago.

"And you used to sing with them." It isn't a question, but Kurt nods anyway.

"Seems like they still want you to come back."

Kurt doesn't say anything to that. Come back to New Directions? Or come back to life?

"They love you, Kurt," Blaine whispers, and Kurt cries even harder in the other boy's shirt. Blaine lets go of the phone, it disappears somewhere in the bed linens, and he holds Kurt close, gently rubbing a hand up and down his back, and whispers nonsensical soothing words.

Kurt's heart clenching sobs ebb out and he sits up, blushingly wiping his wet face with his shirt sleeve, not caring about his clothes.

"I'm sorry," he says hoarsely, rubbing his sore eyes with his fists.

"Don't you ever apologize for feeling," Blaine scolds gently, and pries Kurt's hands away from his face. "Promise me you'll never delete that video?"

Kurt nods, and a smiling Blaine leans in to peck his forehead.

"Now you have something you can always watch if you need a pep talk," he says, reaching over to the nightstand and hands Kurt his cup of coffee. It's still fairly warm, and the boys finish their cups in companionable silence, side by side in the bed.

Kurt drenches his cup for the last drop of the liquid gold, and sighs deeply.

"I must be the shitties friend ever. I don't even know how the competition went."

"Why don't you just text one of them and ask?"

Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Way to make things easy, Blaine."

"But I have you to make things complicated," Blaine whines, earning himself a smack on the back of his head and a glare from his roommate.

"Not all of us can be as simple minded as you are."

"Are you calling me an idiot?"

"Of course not, dummy," Kurt smiles brightly.

"Oh, I see how it is!" Blaine chuckles, and flips Kurt over, pinning him to the bed. He's resting on his knees on either side of Kurt's body, and is holding him down firmly by his shoulders.

"Hey…" he says softly, and loosens his hold on Kurt's shoulders.

"Hey…" Kurt breathes out.

They lock eyes and smile softly at each other. Blaine doesn't blink or look away, as he leans in closer. He moves one hand from Kurt's shoulder to cup his cheek, and gently brushes his thumb over the boy's cheek bone. Kurt lifts his hands to rest on Blaine's lower back, and gives him a nearly imperceptible touch. It's all the encouragement Blaine needs, and he closes his eyes as he leans in further, almost there, and then Kurt lifts his head the last inches to meet Blaine. Their lips greet carefully, barely touching, a gentle tickling caress. Kurt moves one hand determinedly, but softly, up along Blaine's back, settling it to rest on his neck. He gives the boy a slight pull as he leans down on his pillow again, and Blaine eagerly follows, their lips hardly separating. Quite the opposite, they engage each other in a slow, sensual dance. Blaine sighs happily against Kurt's mouth, moving both hands to rest softly around Kurt's neck, his thumbs rubbing Kurt's smooth skin on his jawbone and earlobe. Kurt's fingers are absentmindedly playing with the curls in the nape of Blaine's neck.

Blaine breathes with his nose, not wanting to interrupt the kiss quite yet. His heart is beating rabbit fast, and he can feel his blood running wild in his body, it soars in his ears, and he can feel it beat in his fingertips. His skin is so sensitive now, and he doesn't know what's more exhilarating – the feel of touching Kurt's skin or the feel of Kurt touching his skin. Screw it, kissing Kurt is the most thrilling feeling ever. He keeps his eyes closed; he can't take in any more sensations, this is sensory overload. He massages Kurt's lips with his own, and he can still taste a hint of mocha, some kind of lip balm, and just _Kurt_. He inhales through his nose, and he can't identify the scents, but it's captivating, and he decides it's the most amazing thing he's ever smelled. His ears are filled with the beating of his own heart, and the butterflies in his stomach take off all at once when he hears a satisfied sighing sound from Kurt. It vibrates and tickles against his own lips, and Blaine can't help but smile against Kurt's lips. He can feel the other boy's lips twist upwards as well, and Blaine is just so giddy he can't help himself. He laughs softly, lifts his head, and watches Kurt both amused and fondly. He can't really believe he's kissed this beautiful boy.

"Hey…" he whispers again, because it seems as if that's his entire vocabulary for the moment.

Kurt gives him this adorable smile, where he lifts his mouth slightly more on one side than the other. His eyes beam, and to Blaine he's breathtaking, and yeah, he thinks his heart actually skipped a beat. He's never seen Kurt this happy, this beautiful, this lax. His lips are slightly redder than usual, and seem somewhat fuller than the last time he looked at them. _He just kissed Kurt!_

"Hey," Kurt beams breathlessly, talking out of the upturned end of his mouth, and a couple of butterflies flap their wings in Blaine's stomach again. God, this boy is adorable!

Kurt's arms dropped from his neck when Blaine lifted his head, and are now resting on Blaine's waist. Blaine moves his hands from Kurt's face, to rest on his chest, and he lifts his upper body even more, taking in the sight of Kurt lying under him in bed. Although his earlier tears were those of overwhelming happiness, it's still nice to see a different kind of happiness on Kurt's face. Blaine smiles wider, and – feeling bold – quickly leans down to peck Kurt's lips.

"You should text your friends," he suggests, almost feeling articulated again after his brain smelted during the kiss.

Kurt looks confused at him, though.

"About this?" he asks, sounding almost scandalized, and Blaine laughs. God, did he actually make Kurt forget everything?

"Sectionals, Silly," he laughs at the boy, and starts rummaging the bed to find Kurt's phone.

"Oh." Kurt blushes, and Blaine quietly wonders if there's anything that boy can do which isn't adorable or cute.

He can't resist, but leans down to peck Kurt's lips quickly again. He can hear Kurt's breathe hitch, but when he leans back to look at him his eyes beams and he's smiling sincerely. Kurt's hands gently squeeze reassuringly where they're resting around his waist.

A team of thoughts and questions are playing ping-pong with Blaine's brain, but he forces it back for now. He just wants to memorize the feeling of kissing Kurt and the knowledge of making someone else look so sated.

Blaine hands Kurt his phone he found under the pillows, cups his cheek for a moment, before climbing out of bed.

"I have a deadline tomorrow," he explains, and sits down by his desk, starting up his laptop again.

He glances quickly over to Kurt while the machine finishes its opening sequence, and the other boy's fingers are rapidly moving over the keys, typing down what he assumes are texts for his Glee friends. Blaine turns back to his own screen, and a history paper has never been met with such a big smile before.

* * *

Kurt types out a draft he can send everybody in New Directions, but he isn't quite satisfied with the phrasings and word choices. He types out several suggestions, before he settles with something he decides is at least good enough, although not perfect.

_As mr. John Lennon said, "I get by with a little help from my friends." Thank you so much for dedicating Sectionals to me. You rendered me speechless, and you KNOW how hard that is to achieve. I love you, guys! Kurt_

He re-reads it three times, before sending it out to all 12 members of New Directions, and to mr. Schue as well. He also types out a simpler thank you to Sue Sylvester for sending him the video.

Feeling uplifted, he decides to call Mercedes. It rings and rings, until it reaches the voice mail, and he hangs up. He's about to call Tina, when he suddenly remembers some manners. It wouldn't be polite to disturb Blaine with his studies.

"I'll put in earplugs and listen to some music, if you wanted to call your friends," Blaine offers. Obviously he's a talented mind reader.

"Thank you," Kurt smiles sincerely. He waits until Blaine has found his desired playlist, and then he calls Tina.

She picks up after five rings, shouting his name in his ear. There's a lot of noise in the background.

"Kurt, how are you, did you know we competed at Sectionals today?" she talks rapidly, and Kurt can picture her eager smile. And clearly she hasn't seen his text yet.

"I do know, Tina, that's why I'm calling. I saw the performance. I…" He chokes up. He promised himself he wouldn't cry on the phone, but he can't help it.

"Kurt…" Tina coos, and Kurt kind of loves her for not firing off questions about how he saw the performance, although she must be curious about it. "We love you!" she says earnestly.

"Thank you," Kurt sobs. "Just… Thank you."

He needs a moment to compose, and Tina, the sweetheart she is, talks about something else to give Kurt time.

"We won, so we're one step closer to Nationals. Mr. Schue took us to Breadstix to celebrate. They didn't expect us, so they ran out of breadsticks, and Santana is giving them hell," she grins.

"I wouldn't expect anything less of her," Kurt chuckles, still teary eyed, but with more control of his voice again.

"Did you have an OK Thanksgiving?"

It seems like such a long time ago, a lot has happened since. But Kurt remembers playing the piano and singing with Blaine in the gym. He doesn't tell Tina, though, he doesn't want to give her any false hopes about coming back to them, and he doesn't want them to nag on him to sing more.

"We had turkey, relaxed, played some games and watched TV, it was nice. The Hudmel's came visiting, and Carole had made pie."

"Aww, Carole makes the best pies. What else have you been up to?"

"Not much, with the holiday and all. I had to change room, though. A new patient came on Thursday, and they ran out of room, so I was moved to another room, sharing with someone."

"Is that… OK?" Tina asks hesitantly, thinking about how much Kurt has isolated himself lately.

"Yeah, Blaine is the perfect roommate. His room has its own bathroom," Kurt grins wickedly, making Tina laugh as well. He quickly glances over to the boy, but it doesn't seem as if he heard him mention his name.

"Blaine, you said? That sounds familiar. Is he the boy you're borrowing books from?"

Kurt hums his affirmation.

"Mercedes and I met him when we visited you. He seems… nice?"

"Tina!" Kurt says warningly, knowing the girl is hiding something.

She sighs.

"He just seemed a bit uptight, stiff and fake, that's all. Like he had no real personality and just pretended, played the part."

It surprises Kurt, that's not words he'd use to describe Blaine. He doesn't want to discuss him in front of him, though, so he just nods.

"OK," he says cheerfully, remembering Tina can't see him.

"He's there, isn't he?"

"That's one way of putting it…"

"I hear you, we can discuss him later," Tina smiles. "But tell someone if he's giving you a hard time or making you feel uncomfortable, OK?"

Kurt is glad Tina can't see him blushing, because Blaine has made him feel anything but uncomfortable the last 24 hours.

There's some commotion in the background, and Tina disappears for a moment. He recognizes several voices of his friends, if he's still allowed to call them that.

"Hummel, my man!" a voice chimes in his ear.

"Puck," Kurt greets back.

"Are they treating you right? Anyone I need to come and teach a lesson?"

A stray thought reminds Kurt of Seth, but he's taken care of.

"Everything's fine, but I still appreciate the offer," Kurt reassures him.

"That's cool, I'll let my muscles rest, then. Hey, Hudson here wants a word with you, hold on."

Kurt doesn't even get to say bye, before he can hear more background noise, and he assumes the phone is being handed over to his step brother.

"Dude, you called!" Finn seems almost surprised.

"Of course I had to call, I got a freaking performance dedicated to me, I saw what you sang," Kurt exclaims, and he's almost crying again.

His goofy brother makes him laugh instead, and they talk for a while, but then Brittany wants to talk with her favourite dolphin, and afterwards Santana needs to translate some of it for Kurt. Eventually Kurt ends up talking with most of the members of New Directions, even mr. Schue wants to share some words with him. He ends with Tina again, who bids her goodbyes, and they hang up.

Kurt drops the phone on the nightstand, and stretches his tired body along the length of the bed.

"How did they do?" Blaine asks, wrapping the earplugs around his iPod and leaving it on the desk.

"They won."

"And how are you?" Blaine looks carefully at him, while rolling his chair closer to Kurt's bed.

"Am I in therapy now?" Kurt chuckles. "It was fine. It was nice. I didn't imagine a phone conversation could be this draining, though."

"Dinner is up in about an hour. Why don't you take a nap until then?"

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Why would I ever mind that?" Blaine asks honestly confused.

"You don't think it will be awkward if I sleep here, in the middle of the day?"

"No, that's not a problem, I'm used to roommates taking a nap whenever. But I can unfold the curtain screen, if you want to?"

"You don't have to do that for me, I'm so tired I think I could fall asleep standing against a wall."

"I'd recommend you stay in bed," Blaine chuckles. "Sweet dreams, Kurt," he says and tucks the other boy in, leaving him with a gentle pat on his shoulder to continue with his home work.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Eva Cassidy – _Somewhere Over the Rainbow _(This song is done by a thousand artists, but Blaine is doing it the Eva Cassidy-way)

Carole King – _You've Got a Friend_

Laleh – _Some Die Young_

The Beatles –_ Here Comes the Sun_


	23. Papa Bear

**AN: Thank you to everybody who's reading, reviewing, favouriting, following and loving this story! I really appreciate your feedback. **

**_Lucie_, I can't answer you on a PM, but I hope this chapter answers your question.**

**Thank you to _Nurse Kate_ who inspired the title of this chapter.  
**

**I know a lot of you are focused on the premiere of season 4 now - but please keep this spoiler free. I'm not able to see the show yet, as I don't live in the States, so don't ruin anything for me, please, please.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, I'm just borrowing a few characters to play with.**

* * *

Kurt stirs as two firm, but gentle, hands shake him awake, and a voice wiggles its way into his ears.

"Kurt, dinner is ready, you have to eat."

He rolls over, his back to the intruder, and buries his head under the covers. It feels so good to sleep. The voice is persistent, though, and shakes him some more.

"Come on, sweety, you can sleep more afterwards, but you haven't eaten anything since breakfast. You're having chicken, and it's delicious, and it won't be as tasty if it gets cold."

The voice won't shut up, but rambles on, and finally Kurt rolls over again, groaning. He squints through narrow eyes at the person pierced on his bedside.

"Margaret…" he yawns.

"I know you're tired, honey, but you'll feel better if you eat something," she smiles gently, and removes her hands from his shoulders to rest in her own lap.

Kurt sighs, but flips himself awkwardly out of bed, and stumbles across the floor to the bathroom. From the corner of his eyes he catches Blaine sitting in his bed, watching him with amusement. He gives him a lip tight little smile as he closes the bathroom door.

After he's brushed his teeth, he stays by the sink, watching himself in the mirror. Who is Kurt now? He still remembers that first night in the ward, and how he almost didn't recognize the reflection in the mirror. He had looked like someone else; so young and broken, worn out and half dead. Kurt looks more like Kurt now; more alive and more healthy. He can still see remnants of bad sleep, and old Kurt would scoff at his poor skin. His eyes aren't as vibrant and expressive as he knows they were either. This is the Kurt he's been seeing the last days, this is familiar and recognizable. But when he thinks about the video from Sectionals, the smile in the mirror doesn't look like someone having gas pain anymore.

He tilts his head this way and that, studying the mirror image from different angles. He takes a step back, and then steps closer to the mirror again. He scrunches up his face, and then relaxes it again.

Huh.

Nothing's changed.

He's not quite sure what he expected to see, but he didn't expect to still be the same. He's Kurt Hummel, and he's recently been kissed – quite thoroughly as well, when he thinks about last evening.

It's not like he expected a sudden growth spurt, the appearance of a beard overnight, to look sexier, or to find the tattoo "kissed" on his forehead. But he thought it would change him in some way. His first kiss has always been a big deal for him, and he'd already decided his little experiment with Brittany didn't count. His second first kiss had been stolen. But third time's the charm, right? Both the intense make out session yesterday and the gentler kissing earlier, those definitely count, and he'd like to think about them as his real first kiss. Something wanted, something mutually reciprocated, something good. It doesn't hurt his first kiss came from someone as hot as Blaine either, although he never imagined his first kiss to be in a hospital bed or in a psychiatric ward. But when all comes to all, Kurt has never imagined himself in a psychiatric ward at all.

So, Kurt Hummel, thoroughly kissed, and doesn't look different. Maybe he's exaggerated everything, maybe it's no big deal. It's just a kiss, for goodness sake. Fun and exhilarating, but not life altering. Good to know.

Kurt shrugs to his own reflection, and leaves the bathroom.

"There you are, Kurt, I was almost getting worried for you," Margaret coos.

Kurt smiles apologetically, and climbs into bed. He settles against the headboard, and Margaret gives him a tray with his dinner and a glass of lemonade.

"I've left you more to drink here," she says and points at a jug on Blaine's desk before she leaves.

Kurt digs into his plate of chicken filet, mashed potatoes and vegetables. It's delicious, but probably more so than usual because he's actually starving.

"Did you sleep well?" Blaine asks softly.

Kurt looks up wide eyed, and momentarily stops wolfing down his food. He nods.

"Yes, thank you. I obviously needed it," he laughs half heartedly, thinking about how Margaret struggled to get him awake. "Did you finish your paper?" he asks.

"Almost. I'll read through it once more tomorrow to see if I want to improve anything, and then e-mail it to my teacher. You aren't doing any homework while you're here?" Blaine asks as if in afterthought.

Kurt shakes his head.

"Nobody's asked me to, and I don't think I feel up for it either. It's difficult enough to concentrate on your fantasy books."

Blaine nods in understanding.

"I know how you feel. I couldn't do any kind of studies during my first stays here either, and I still have days where I don't get anything done."

Kurt is about to ask him about his teachers, when his phone starts playing _A House Is Not A Home_.

"That's my father," Kurt explains.

"Should I leave?"

Blaine is almost out of his bed before Kurt can answer.

"No, no, no, I'm the one who should leave."

"Silly, this is your room too."

They look at each other, both with uncertainty, and before any of them can say anything the ringtone ends.

"How about I take a long shower, and you call up your father?" Blaine suggests.

"You're too kind," Kurt smiles genuinely, but Blaine just shrugs.

"You deserve privacy, that's the least I can offer."

Kurt waits until he hears the shower running before he calls his father back.

"Hey dad, sorry I missed your call."

"Don't sweat it, kid, I'm glad you have more important things to do than staring at your phone."

"How are you guys?"

"Good, we're good," Burt says with gruff voice. "But I think it's more important I ask you that question."

"How come?"

"Kurt," Burt says patiently. "I live with your step brother, remember? I know you talked with him earlier, and I know you are aware of their performance today, and furthermore how they dedicated that to you."

_Oh…_

"Yeah, I saw it, I got a video of it."

"And?"

Right. His father never let him go that easily if he suspected something was up.

"I'm fine, dad," Kurt sighs. "It was nice of them, they didn't need to do anything like that."

"They handpicked songs to give you a message, Kurt, I think that's more than just _nice_."

"It's overwhelming, OK? I'm touched by their expression of love, and I don't know how to deal with it."

"You don't have to deal with anything, son. Just stop forcing people who love you out of your life. We want to help you, and we want to see you happy again. OK?"

Kurt nods; the soothing and familiar voice of his father makes him almost think he's there with him.

"So, anything else happened since we saw you?" Burt asks calmly, and Kurt isn't sure if his father knows or not. He goes with honesty, because despite everything he doesn't want to disappoint or hurt his father.

"I moved to a new room on Thursday," Kurt tells him.

"Oh? You didn't mention anything about that when we visited. Are you in a new ward, or what's going on?"

His father seems confused enough to not know what's happened, and Kurt is glad. This gives him the opportunity to tell him everything with his own words.

"No, I'm in the same place. But there was an emergency and they ran out of rooms, so I was asked later that evening if I'd mind sharing a room with some of the other patients."

"And you accepted that, of course. You've always been too nice for your own good," Burt huffs.

"Dad," Kurt says with a warning tone. "Someone had to do it."

"So how many of you are sharing a room now?"

"We're only two, dad. He has a much bigger room than I had, and his own bath, so it's actually not so bad."

"So it's a boy, huh?"

"Yes, dad, I'm pretty sure there are rules against letting boys and girls sharing a room."

"And he's OK with you? He's not giving you any kind of trouble, is he?"

"No, dad, Blaine's a good guy. I think we've become sort of friends since I was committed here."

Kurt blatantly skips the tiny detail about Blaine being gay, because it really doesn't matter in the big picture. His father would probably just wind himself up worrying about them doing funny business, and it's not like he's going to… OK, so yeah, they kissed, but his dad really doesn't need to know that anyway.

"OK, that's good. But if anyone gives you any trouble, you let me or doctor Whimchester know immediately, OK?"

"I will, dad."

"I'm glad. And I'm glad you're getting new friends. You've seemed so lonely and anti social for a long time. You need to let people into your life, Kurt."

"I know, dad…"

"So, what have you been up to this weekend?" Burt asks, probably hoping to steer the conversation in a more positive direction.

"Oh, nothing much, mostly reading in the room."

Blaine comes out from the bathroom at that moment, tiptoeing to his bed. He looks nervously at Kurt, and Kurt smiles reassuringly at him. No need to leave, the conversation probably won't get too personal any more.

"I thought you had a lot of activities and stuff you were doing together?"

"Yeah, I kind of got excused from that."

"Kurt, I think I need to hear more about this."

Kurt sighs, and meets Blaine's worried eyes.

"Turns out the new kid who got my room is a gigantic homophobe, and he lashed out on both me and Blaine, so we've kept to ourselves while waiting for him to be transferred."

Kurt bites his tongue to prevent the groan slipping through his lips. He didn't mean to include Blaine in that, he didn't intend to tell his father Blaine's gay.

"Are you safe, Kurt?" Burt asks worriedly. "Does anyone know about this?"

Kurt swallows.

"They are keeping an eye on him, but it's not like he can do anything else than insult me. So I avoid him," Kurt shrugs, trying to play it off cool. He can hear his father grunting displeased.

"Be careful, son, OK? I don't like this. At all."

"Not a big fan myself, but it'll get better," Kurt tries to reassure his father.

He's silent for a while.

"So that Blaine kid. He's your roommate?"

"He is," Kurt confirms.

"And he's gay as well."

Kurt hums an affirmative.

"And you've got separate bed?"

"Dad!" Kurt shrieks, knowing he's blushing neon red already.

"Hey, I need to make sure that my son is safe. It's part of my job description."

"I'm safe, dad."

And the funny thing is, Kurt actually does feel safe in the company of Blaine. He's avoided and been afraid of other people for so long, he's closed those who care out of his life, and isolated himself. Being scared has been a constant feeling for so long he's gotten used to it. But around Blaine, Kurt realizes he's actually feeling quite secure and comfortable.

"I love you, son."

"I know, dad," Kurt answers, and they disconnect the conversation.

After all that's happened, Kurt's lost the ability to feel love or say the words. He can type it in a text to his friends, but he knows he doesn't mean it, it's not the kind of love he should have for them. He's had to deal with so much hate and fear; it's replaced all of his ability to express love. It's not as if he hasn't tried, but the words won't come out of his mouth, and he most definitely doesn't feel like he deserves being loved either. That's the main reason the video was so overwhelming. It's so wrong of his former team mates to still love him. It's such a waste, and he'll only disappoint them. He isn't able to love, and is pushing everybody away. It's easier to deal with not being loved and not loving, if you don't have anyone close to remind you.

Kurt sniffs, and dries away a traitorous tear trying to escape from the corner of his eye.

Blaine clearing his voice startles Kurt; he had forgotten he's in the room.

"You OK?" the other boy asks carefully.

"We're in a mental institution. I hardly believe 'OK' is a valid description for me," Kurt snorts.

Blaine gets up from his own bed, and searches Kurt's eyes looking for something Kurt obviously isn't giving him, as he sits down next to Kurt.

"You're going to be OK again," he says with such conviction Kurt almost believes him.

He nudges Kurt's shoulder with his own, and smiles at him.

"Blaine…" Kurt sighs sweetly. "You're so full of bullshit."

He looks at Blaine, really looks at him. Nothing changed, it didn't mean anything, but it was an awful lot of fun. And if it's anything Kurt could need now, it's a decent portion of fun. So he grabs the collar of Blaine's shirt, and yanks him closer, crashing his own lips against the other boy's.

He leans back, interrupting the kiss, to see if Blaine's up for it or wants out. The other boy is panting, left breathless by the surprise attack. They lock eyes for two seconds, before hurriedly leaning towards the other, continuing to kiss.

Kurt wraps his hands around Blaine's neck, closes his eyes, and hums in contentment. He's kissing Blaine eagerly, lips moving fast against the other's lips. It's wet and slippery, but Kurt was right – it is fun. Exactly what he needs!

He feels bold and careless, and sucks on the other boy's lower lip, earning a low moan in response. Blaine has wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulder, pulling him closer. He testily licks his tongue over Blaine's lip tucked in his mouth, awarded with yet another moan. _Awesome!_ He lets go of Blaine's lip, only for the boy to reverse and reciprocate it. Kurt has no difficulty understanding Blaine's vocal response, as he's not able to hold in his own moans when Blaine oh so gently nibbles on his lower lip, and then soothes it with tiny kitten licks.

The boys separate, panting and grinning goofily at each other. Blaine's lips are dark red and swollen, and Kurt can only imagine he looks the same way. Blaine has a cute blush painted across his cheek bones, and his eyes seem bigger than they usually are. Kurt's blood rushes through his body, acting as if his veins are a god damn rafting route. Most of the blood seems to have the same finish line, though, and Kurt shifts slightly away from Blaine to hide how he affects him.

"Wow…" he exhales, convinced his heart will beat right through his chest and run away from him, whatever is left of it anyway.

"Yeah," Blaine says equally breathless.

He leans in and rests his forehead on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt feels a bit awkward, but tilts his head to rest on Blaine's, and places a hand on the boy's waist.

Kurt closes his eyes, and thanks whoever sent Blaine to him. Kissing is unbelievably fantastic, and it's the best kind of distraction Kurt can imagine. He laughs softly, suddenly all the drama and swapping of a significant other in New Directions make sense. Why would anyone not want to have someone to kiss? Want someone to make you feel good and forget about the real world around you for a while? Kurt wants, oh boy, does he want. He needs this, and it feels so good finally to have found his fix. He can't help but laugh some more.

"I like to hear you laugh," Blaine says softly against his neck, and his puffs of breath tickle Kurt's skin in the best ways. "Your laughter is so beautiful."

"Oh Blaine," Kurt smiles amused. "I was right. You really are full of bullshit," he grins.

Blaine lifts his head, and stares at Kurt, with an expression on his face Kurt can't decipher.

"Am not," Blaine whispers, and leans in, kissing Kurt as sweetly and carefully as he did after they watched the video of Kurt's Glee club perform.

Kurt sinks back to his pillows, tugging Blaine with him, and thinks about how nice this is too. People really should kiss more in this world, and then everything would be better. He sighs into Blaine's mouth, and draws nonsensical patterns on the boy's back with his fingers. Blaine's keeping a respectful distance with his hips, for which Kurt is grateful. Blaine doesn't need to know exactly how much Kurt enjoys this.

* * *

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, I do know this is your day off," Christy says and looks at both Thomas and Tim.

Margaret is the fourth person around the table in the staff room. Christy had to call in Melinda on her day off as well, so she could look after the kids while they're having this emergency meeting.

"I've gotten a phone call from a worried parent, who had some questions about their child's wellbeing," she explains, and downplays exactly how furious mr. Hummel had been on the phone. "As I'm sure you know, this doesn't happen often, but we do take complaints seriously when they land on our table."

Christy takes a moment to sort out her thoughts.

"This is about Kurt Hummel," she says, quickly checking her three colleagues' reactions. They don't seem surprised.

"His father is worried about how Seth's presence influences on Kurt. You're all familiar with what happened before breakfast yesterday?"

The other three nod sadly. They always read the journals and reports before a new shift starts, to make sure everybody's updated on as much as possible.

"I think we all agree Seth needs to transfer as soon as possible. He being here is unsettling for both Kurt and Blaine, and it destroys the healing and treatment for three persons. Although Seth is giving us a problem, we can't forget about his needs either, he is also in a vulnerable position and needs to be taken good care of," Christy says sternly and focused. Sometimes it's difficult having to be the voice of reason.

"Have you gotten any response from the other wards yet?" Thomas asks.

"I contacted them as soon as I could yesterday, but nobody wants to deal with transfers during weekends, and Thanksgiving made this even more difficult. But this will be my main priority come Monday early morning

"So basically we cannot promise mr. Hummel anything," Thomas concludes.

"I'm afraid so, although I explained how Seth is under discreet surveillance 24/7. However, mr. Hummel also showed concern about the new room arrangements. He describes his son as someone who's isolated himself, doesn't want to be around other people, needs a lot of time on his own, but is too polite to put his own needs in front of others when put on the spot. Basically, mr. Hummel is afraid Kurt is being taken advantage of and feels forced to share a room with Blaine."

"So, we should give Kurt Yosef's room?" Tim suggests.

"Has mr. Hummel met Blaine?" Margaret wonders. "Or seen the boys interact?"

Christy smiles at Margaret.

"I appreciate your initiative, Tim, but I'm not convinced we should take mr. Hummel's concern to heart just yet. In my opinion, they both thrive with the other's company."

"What do you mean?" Tim asks. Although he's read the papers, he hasn't seen the boys together as he only works during the nights, and some things must be seen and can't be written down.

"Blaine is one of the few here Kurt actually talks to, and we believe it makes him open up. He's seemed more cooperative and positive in his sessions with dr. Whimchester lately," Thomas explains.

"Considering Kurt's background, the encounter with Seth must have been traumatizing for him, and I'm convinced it's good for him to spend some alone time with Blaine. They share experiences and moments the staff can't imagine, so they are better off with each other in this particular situation. Although they aren't abandoned; we do keep an eye on them both. We aren't making Blaine Kurt's psychiatrist," Christy points out.

"Did you explain this to mr. Hummel?" Tim asks.

"I did, and it seems like his remaining concern primarily is that Blaine is gay."

"Why does he have a problem with that? His own is gay, for goodness sake," Margaret exclaims outraged.

"No, no, it's nothing like that. He's more concerned with the _appropriateness_ of it all," Christy explains carefully, but her lips threaten to twitch into a smile.

The other three nod in understanding.

"Margaret did report she found them in the same bed this morning," Thomas adds thoughtful.

"And both told without being asked Kurt had a nightmare and Blaine calmed him down," Margaret parries. "Which is also written in the report."

"The rules only say something about boys and girls sharing a room," Tim reminds them.

"And that may be because nobody thought about the scenario of two gay guys landing the same room," Thomas replies.

Christy sits back in her chair, listening to her colleagues. She is very well aware of the rules, and she suspects Blaine and Kurt rooming together would be a violation of the regulations, had they been updated the last decades. But she's willing to interpret the regulations literally, if that allows Kurt and Blaine to share a room for a couple of days. She's seen how they are together. They have a connection, and maybe they'll never be more than friends, but Christy is not planning to stand in their way for whatever they are developing.

She holds back a mellow sigh, and thinks back to when she was 17. It's more than forty years ago. She had met the love of her life the year before, and she had known this was the one she'd share her life with. They spent a year together, the happiest she's ever been. But they had been discovered, and Emma's parents had instantly arranged her marriage to a son of her father's colleague. It left both of them heartbroken. Emma had been so, so unhappy in her marriage. Christy had tried to stay in touch as merely a friend, but Emma's parents constantly chased her away. One day, Emma's husband found his handgun on the kitchen floor, next to Emma's cold body. That's the day Christy's heart broke entirely, and she's never been in a relationship after that. It was also the day Christy decided on her career path. Her heart has mostly healed, but it's left with a sore spot for gay teens.

"Yosef and Kurt won't change rooms, we'll maintain this solution until Seth is gone," Christy interjects. "But I'll invite mr. Hummel to come here tomorrow, to see how his son is doing. If Blaine accepts, they can meet as well, so father can be reassured his son is doing fine."

"Are you sure about this?" Thomas questions.

"Care to elaborate on your worries?" Christy asks with a strict voice. She's always considered Thomas as an open-minded and caring nurse, so it's confusing how he fights this.

"I'm simply worried what happens the day they are discharged. I don't think it's healthy for them to develop too much dependency on each other."

"You said it yourself, Kurt is doing better after he began interacting with Blaine."

"Yes, but there's a difference in talking in the common's room, and spending 24/7 together in one room."

"I see your concern, Thomas, I do. But this is a temporary solution; Kurt will be moved back to his own room when Seth leaves. Also, we mustn't forget how every single patient gets dependent on someone while being here. Doctor Whimchester, their contact person – or one of the other patients. Going back to real life is always difficult, so we should focus on helping them as best as we can while they're still here. We'll help them with the transitions when we get there."

Christy looks sternly at the other three, but nobody has anything to add to their discussion.

"Excellent. I'll call mr. Hummel. Margaret, you're here tomorrow, and I trust you'll handle this with your usual gentle and firm love. Will you talk with Blaine?"

* * *

Blaine is sitting cross legged in his bed, with his trusted guitar in his lap, strumming aimlessly and making up chords and melody on the go. It isn't often he feels like playing, but today he's in a good mood. He quickly glances over at Kurt, who's lying on his stomach reading one of his books, and his randomly kicking his feet in the air. Blaine smiles fondly at him. He's pretty sure he knows why his mood has improved drastically the last days. Sharing a room with Kurt… Kissing Kurt… Blaine's smile transfers into a big grin, and he knows he's even blushing. Wonderful, beautiful, amazing, strong Kurt. This isn't the right place, but as soon as they're both out of here, he'll take him out on a date. In the meantime he'll without doubt enjoy getting to know the boy better. And maybe some more kisses?

His fingers are living a life on their own, and he realizes he's started on a familiar intro.

"_Drinking wine and thinking bliss is on the other side of this. I just need a compass and a willing accomplice. All my doubts that fill my head cascading up and down again. Up and down and round again, down and up and down again_," he softly sings, letting himself get lost in the song.

"_Irony, irony, this hate and love, hate and love. What it does to me, what it's done to me. What is done... done_," he sings louder, with his eyes closed. He thinks about those who beat him down at the dance, he thinks about the constant pressure from his parents, he thinks about the misguided acceptance from his father, but he also thinks about Kurt.

The last notes die out, and he opens his eyes only to see Kurt staring at him. The boy has left the book on the nightstand, and has turned over to lie on his side, facing Blaine.

"You have a captivating voice. Your Glee club must be glad to have you," Kurt praises.

Blaine blushes at the words, but shrugs.

"Not really. I only join them for rehearsals; I never participate in public performances."

"You don't? But why?" Kurt exclaims.

"Why did you quit your Glee club?" Blaine parries, and he doesn't mean to sound as snappy as his voice comes out.

Kurt looks down on the mattress, and picks on some lint. He doesn't say anything, and Blaine doesn't apologize. But they get it. They both have their demons, and they do what they think they need to do to make things less hard. Blaine is afraid of drawing attention to himself in public after the attack, so he avoids those situations and hardly leaves his safety spots. Kurt is afraid of drawing attention to himself in school with all the bullying, so he tries to blend in and disappear.

But here, in this room in Bellefontaine, they are both safe.

"Do you have any requests?" Blaine asks softly after a while, and Kurt looks at him, smiling hesitantly.

"I'll enjoy listening to whatever," he says equally softly.

"But are there any songs you'd like to sing?"

Kurt shakes his head.

"No, I don't think I feel like singing right now."

Blaine simply nods, and starts strumming his guitar again. He plays with it, starts with one song and lets it fade into another one in the middle of a chorus. Sometimes he sings, sometimes he only plays. He never thinks, though, just lets his fingers guide him through his endless repertoire. He's been working on a song he heard Adam Lambert perform, trying to convert the tender piano melody to the guitar. He's singing the lyrics in his head while he tries to get it just right. He knows he could have looked up the accords online, but where's the fun in that?

Blaine's face evolves into a big smile when he hears the faint, soft voice of Kurt adding the lyrics. OK, so the lyrics are down right depressing, but Kurt's voice is mesmerizing. Blaine concentrates harder on what he's doing to make sure he's accompanying Kurt's singing, and not the other way around.

"_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take. When people run in circles it's a very, very, Mad world, mad world._"

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

P!nk – _Crystal Ball_

Gary Jules – _Mad World_


	24. Cogito Ergo Sum

**AN: I am so, so sorry for this delay, but I've been struggling through a mean writer's block. Then a lot of things went down in real life, giving me a bad funk - and yeah, it made me able to write angst, but I knew I didn't want things to be that angst-filled in this chapter (or story, man, I was low...) - so I've just tried to be patient and wait for the right mindset and inspiration.**

**And finally it's here. If it is of any comfort, I think this is the longest chapter I have written for this story. It may seem as if not much goes on, but read between the lines and pay attention to the dialogues. I try to convey some important messages in this chapter.**

**I hope my dear readers haven't given up on me, and are still out there, willing to continue with this story and give me more of that wonderful feedback I really appreciates so much.**

**And a private warning: I have NOT seen anything from season 4, and I do NOT want to know ANYTHING, so keep your reviews and PMs spoiler free, please, please, please.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

* * *

In lack of anything better to do, Blaine is trying to teach Kurt how to play the guitar. They initially decided to watch a movie, but there weren't enough battery on Blaine's laptop, so he brought it to the staff room to get it charged.

"This would be easier if we both had a guitar, so I could show you what you need to do, but… May I?" Blaine asks carefully, his hand hovering over where Kurt is clutching tensed at the guitar neck. They're sitting across of each other in Blaine's bed. Kurt has a concentrated, almost pained, expression on his face.

"You have to relax; this is supposed to be fun," he laughs, and tries to bend open Kurt's death grip on his poor guitar. "Now, if you move your index finger here, your middle finger should be there, and can you move your ring finger… there," he explains, while positioning Kurt's fingers.

"This hurts!" Kurt complains.

"Pssh, with your long and elegant piano fingers, you should easily be able to manhandle a guitar as well. Now, strum the accord for me, it should be a G."

Kurt does as told, but it doesn't sound quite right.

"You have to make the pressure with the tip of the fingers, and make sure you don't accidentally touch any other strings," Blaine reminds him.

Kurt tries to bend his fingers to accommodate to Blaine's instructions.

"Gaga, this hurts," he sighs.

"Why do you think I have so calloused fingertips?" Blaine smirks, and runs his fingers down Kurt's bare arms.

For once, the boy is wearing a short sleeved shirt, accompanied by a tight sitting vest with some intricate buttons, and some sinful pants. A scarf finishes the outfit, and Blaine couldn't help but compliment how stunning Kurt looked when he came out of the bathroom earlier this morning. Kurt's mere existence encourages Blaine to want to make an effort, so today he added a bowtie and suspenders to his otherwise neutral shirt and pants. Kurt had complimented him back, or at least Blaine chose to take it as a compliment, when Kurt teasingly asked if he had dressed up for going to church.

Blaine enjoys the goose bumps that erupt in his trails down Kurt's arms. He desperately wants to think that he's making an impact on the beautiful boy, he wants to think he can thrill the boy in some of the ways Kurt affects him.

Kurt grabs both his wrists, and carefully studies his fingertips. They look like those of a true guitarist.

"I think I'll stick to the piano," Kurt concludes. "I don't know any lotions that can save me from this result," he shivers.

"I'm afraid it's an inevitable consequence of being a bad ass rock'n roller," Blaine shrugs.

"So why are your fingers looking like this?" Kurt smirks.

"Touché!"

Kurt is still holding Blaine's hands, and he isn't going to object or interrupt. It feels good being close to Kurt, sharing caresses and moments like this. He has a particular brand of humour, and Blaine is happy to hear the boy letting down his guard, opening up, and allowing himself to be whoever he wants to be in front of Blaine. Cracking jokes on Blaine's expense is fine by him, because it means Kurt is getting more and more comfortable around him.

Blaine is partly annoyed and partly sad when someone knocks on their door, as it makes Kurt let go of Blaine's hands quicker than if they were on fire.

Margaret steps in to their room after Blaine calls out for her to enter.

"Blaine, I need to talk with you, do you have five minutes?" she asks kindly.

"Sure," he agrees, and steps out of his bed.

"Let's go to the conversation room; Seth is in his room," Margaret explains, and they head out. Blaine is glad he won't have to see the homophobe.

"Don't think I'm giving up on you, I'm not leaving this place until you can play one song on that guitar," he hurriedly adds as they leave.

"Whenever did that become a threat?" Kurt quips back, and winks at him just before the door closes.

"I guess I need to improve my persuasive skills," Blaine chuckles at Margaret.

"Or maybe you need to reconsider your bargains in a negotiation situation."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if _I_ didn't want you to leave, I'd make sure to never learn anything on that guitar," Margaret giggles.

Blaine blushes. He hadn't thought that far. He'd sabotage the guitar if it was the other way around. If it was possible. The truth is he'll be discharged at some time, so will Kurt, and neither can control when that happens. Who knows what will happen then? Blaine really hopes they'll just continue what they're having here, but under more normal circumstances. He hasn't even thought about not having Kurt in his real life, that's just not an option. The thought scares him, and makes his body literally hurt.

"So, what do we need to talk about?" he asks to get his mind on something else.

Both sit down on the couch.

"Blaine, Kurt's father is coming to visit today. He's concerned about his son's wellbeing. We thought it might be an idea for him to meet Kurt's roommate," Margaret looks pointedly at Blaine. "He just needs to see that you are a sweet and kind boy," Margaret reassures.

It doesn't help much, Blaine still panics silently. He hates meeting new people, especially in situations where he has to make an impression. He never knows which Blaine to be.

"You don't have to; Mr. Hummel doesn't know it's an option yet, he's solely coming to visit Kurt," Margaret adds.

"This seems so sudden, why is he coming?"

"Well, to be honest I think he feels he has a bone to pluck with Seth. That obviously won't happen. But as a concerned father he needs to make sure his son is doing well when something like that incident on Friday happens."

"Do I… Do you think I'll have to talk much with him?"

Margaret smiles kindly at him.

"I think he'll be satisfied if he gets to meet you, and we can control how long that lasts. I can make up an appointment for you, if you want to."

Blaine ducks his head, studies his knees.

"I… I guess I can quickly introduce myself to him, right?"

"This is completely up to you. He'll be here around noon, so just let me know beforehand, OK?"

Blaine simply nods. He's gotten a lot to think about.

Margaret walks him back to his room.

"Kurt, your father will be here at noon, do you want to meet him here or in the conversation room?"

"Oh, I didn't know that. Huh, conversation perhaps?"

"I'll book it just in case," she offers.

"Margaret?" he asks hesitantly, and she smiles encouragingly. "Are there any chances I could join Blaine for his coffee outing later?"

"Well, I'm glad you want to meet the world. Seeing it would be your first time since you came here, you need to go with a nurse, so I'll have to check with the rest of the staff to see if we can spare someone. I'll get back to you, OK?"

Margaret leaves, and Blaine watches Kurt with both amusement and curiousness.

"That was interesting!"

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I practically invited myself, I bet you want to spend some time on your own away from me," Kurt sighs. "I'm so stupid…"

Blaine laughs as he sits down next to Kurt.

"Seriously, Kurt? Maybe you _are_ stupid. I've asked you to join several times, but you turned it down each time. I'd love to have coffee with you. I'm just curious what made you change your mind?"

Kurt pulls his knees up to his chest, folding his arms around his legs.

"I refused to go with you because I was afraid. Staying here kept me safe, kept me away from any kind of threats."

Blaine smiles sadly, and wraps an arm around Kurt, pulling him close.

"And then Seth came," he concludes.

"And then Seth came," Kurt agrees. "It's not like he's the worst person I've ever met either. But he made me think. Maybe I should try to be a bit braver, facing the world again. Or maybe I've just resigned and don't care anymore?"

"I think you care more than you realize. And I think you are being brave for challenging yourself. Courage," Blaine beams, silently cheering, hoping he'll get to spend some time in a coffee shop with the boy today. It'll almost be like a date, he realizes, and his stomach does a weird, but not uncomfortable, flip.

"Now, you have a neglected guitar to take care of. Let me hear that G-chord again."

* * *

"Are you sure you're fine with sharing a room?"

Burt has already asked Kurt the question twice, and Kurt has given the same answer both times. Now he settles with rolling his eyes at his father.

"Don't act like that, you know I have to look out for you and make sure nothing's bothering you that can be easily fixed."

"I haven't changed my mind the last half hour, so stop worrying about that." Kurt adds the last two words, because he knows his father will never stop worrying about him, especially not after what he did to himself – but rooming with Blaine isn't something he needs to stay sleepless for.

"And when is that bully getting the hell out of here?" Burt seems annoyed.

"I don't know, they'll update me tomorrow. It's a weekend, dad, not much can be done outside office hours," Kurt responds, almost patronizingly. He's just so tired of his father worrying about everything, and he hates being asked questions he can't answer. It makes him feel even dumber than he is.

"Emergencies should be dealt with no matter the hours," Burt huffs.

"What's done is done, and I haven't seen him since Friday, so what else do you want me to do?"

"I don't want _you_ to do anything; I want those who are responsible to do their job."

"What does it take to make you understand I'm fine? I had a meltdown on Friday, but I'm actually perfectly fine about it now. Both the staff and the roommate helped me."

"I want to meet that roommate of yours," Burt says sternly.

"Do we really have to drag Blaine into this?"

"I think I deserve to know who my son is living with."

"Jesus, dad, you'd think I ran off to Vegas and got married."

Burt doesn't say anything, but gives his son that one look which says he's not in the mood anymore, and you better do as told. Kurt Hummel may be a stubborn piece of art, but that's genetic, and Burt sometimes outweighs him with his years of experience.

"OK, I'll show you our room; I don't even know if Blaine is in."

That is of course a lie. Kurt knows Blaine is still in their room; they discussed this before Burt came to visit. Blaine had accepted meeting Burt if the need occurred, and would stay in, postponing his daily outing, until they knew if Burt would want to see him or not.

Kurt pauses in front of the door to his room, and stops his father's hand from knocking.

"Behave," he hisses. "This isn't Blaine's fault and he has done nothing wrong. Don't scare him, OK?"

Kurt glares at his father, not impressed by his own imagination of what his father might say to Blaine.

"Relax bud, I'm not gonna interrogate the kid," Burt chuckles, and knocks on the door with his other hand.

"Come in!" a melodic voice answers.

Kurt hurries to push down the door handle before his father can open the door, hoping to get into the room before him and give Blaine a warning.

"Hey silly, you don't have to knock on your own…"

Blaine interrupts himself when he spots Burt, and Kurt easily notices how his hazel eyes widen, his skin pales and he seems almost shorter. Kurt turns around to beckon his father inside, but his father is already towering in the doorframe, with a serious expression on his face, the Buckeyes cap plastered to his head, a big warm winter jacket making him seem even bigger, and worn out jeans to complete the impression.

"Blaine, I want you to meet my dad."

Kurt's voice seems to get Blaine out of his trance, and he leaps up from his desk chair, crosses the room with a couple of quick strides, and politely extends his hand. His movements are quick and sharp, and he doesn't stay still in the same place for long. Kurt suspects he's trying to cover up how his limbs are shaking with nerves, but Kurt can still see the trembles. He's used to watching dancers and scrutinizing their performances – of course he can identify nervous movements. He doesn't think his father can, though.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Hummel; Kurt has told me so much about you. I'm Blaine Anderson," he says smoothly, but Kurt thinks he can identify some frantic rambling in his voice.

Burt steps up and shakes hands with Blaine.

"Nice to meet you too, Blaine," he replies, never being the most formal guy there is.

Kurt is standing behind Burt, and tries to gesture for Blaine to calm down, smile and relax, but Blaine's entire focus is on the older Hummel.

They break the handshake after just a bit too long.

"So, this is where we live," Blaine says politely, entering some weird tour guide mood. "These are our beds, and we have this for privacy when it's needed," he explains and moves the curtain screen a foot to show. "This is our bathroom, and that's about it," he deflates, running a hand through his hair, and finally meeting Kurt's eyes as if to ask _now what?_

"Did that Seth guy do anything to you?" Burt asks, and he doesn't look through the open bathroom door or at the desk Blaine was sitting at. He's watching Blaine himself, intently.

Kurt is watching the boy equally as intent, studying his reactions. Blaine swallows and blinks, but hardly misses a beat before his answer smoothens its way through to their eardrums.

"No sir, he didn't harm me physically, and I haven't even seen him since breakfast on Friday." He stops and stares at the floor, closing his eyes as if he remembers the episode two days earlier. "I feel safe and taken care of here," he adds, locking eyes with Burt.

"That's good, kid," Burt says with his scruffy voice. "But you tell somebody the moment anybody does something to you, OK? You're not going to have to take all kinds of crap just because you're gay. You hear me?"

Blaine flinches, but he doesn't break eye contact, and nods in affirmative to Burt's questions.

* * *

Blaine offered Burt the desk chair, while he and Kurt sat down in his bed, with a foot or so between them. They talked about this and that. Even with the distance, Kurt could sense how tense Blaine was, but as they talked he seemed to relax, his body posture and facial expression softening. It turned out Blaine is into football, so Burt and he had bonded over that, while Kurt rolled his eyes and tapped his foot on the bed impatiently and unrhythmically.

After half an hour with boring football chat and then half an hour talking about politics, Burt had finally decided to go back home. Blaine and Burt had done most of the talking, as Kurt had nothing to contribute to the football topic, and he just couldn't muster enough excitement to discuss politics at the moment.

Father and son are hugging by the exit door, with Margaret waiting at a respectful distance, ready to dial the code and let out the older Hummel.

"Thank you for letting me meet your roommate, Kurt, I needed to see for myself that you're doing good."

Kurt is surprised by his father's word phrasing, but he doesn't comment on it.

"It wasn't up to me, but Blaine," he shrugs.

"And you let me know the instant someone gives you a hard time, you hear me?"

Kurt nods.

"OK, kid, I'm going to leave for now. Love you," he says, voice muffled against Kurt's shoulder as they hug.

"Say hello to Carole and Finn from me," Kurt responds automatically.

Then he's gone, and Kurt jogs back to their room. He doesn't want to risk meeting Seth in the hallways.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaims, hardly having opened the door to their room. "I never expected my dad to almost move in here."

"It's fine, Kurt. He's a bit terrifying, impressive, but nice too. You have a great father."

"But he didn't need to impose on you like that," he replies, waving hopelessly with his arms. Kurt honestly feels bad for Blaine, this wasn't what he had pictured or prepared him for.

"Hey," Blaine interrupts, getting up from his bed to stand in front of Kurt. "It's OK, I like your father, although he scared me at first. No harm done."

His smile hardly looks strained at all. Kurt exhales slowly, loudly, and on pure impulse he wraps his arms around Blaine's waist. If he'd just met Blaine's father, he'd like to be distracted and think about something else for a moment. So he leans in and kisses the boy. A surprised whimper escapes from Blaine's lips, but he quickly catches up. Their lips dance until Kurt licks across the seam of Blaine's mouth. He opens up to invite Kurt in, and braces his hands on Kurt's shoulders. Kurt explores Blaine's mouth, while running his hands up to the shoulder blades, pulling the boy closer against his body. Their tongues swirl together, before he licks the roof of Blaine's mouth. He traces the tiny grooves, and his mouth is soon filled with Blaine's moan. Kurt grins as he flickers his tongue along the boy's teeth, and finishes the kiss with a quick bite to his lower lip.

Blaine looks pleased and a little dazzled, a goofy smile on his face and shining eyes.

"You're really _good_, at that," he chuckles awkwardly.

Kurt leans back in for a quick peck.

"Thank you," he whispers shyly. He isn't used to compliments, and they usually taste a bit funny in his mouth. But right now, all he can taste is _Blaine_. And it's delicious!

* * *

Tim had offered to join Blaine and Kurt for their coffee outing. Blaine feels as if he's being chaperoned. Realistically, he knows this isn't a date. But still he would like to be free to talk with Kurt about anything, without someone listening to them. But he understands; Kurt has been at the ward for almost two weeks, and the only time he's gone outside is the time he ended up vomiting five feet past the entrance door.

Blaine is all too familiar with how big the transition from the ward to the real life can be, and he always needs some time to adjust – even though he's been through this several times now. It's easy to forget about the outside world when you're stuck in the ward for a long time. His own daily outings are helping him, on different levels. He wonders how this will be for Kurt, though. He had seemed both determined, confident and resigned when he explained why he'd join.

Considering the amount of time Blaine has been waiting for Kurt to finish in the bathroom, it can seem as if he's anxious about it, though. It's been at least 15 minutes since he disappeared. Blaine just rests against the pillows in Kurt's bed, flicking through the pages of a discarded magazine. He's in no rush. He's looking forward to spending time with Kurt outside of the ward, and he's sure it's worth the wait. He's smiling fondly at the thought of this maybe-a-date. It isn't that many days since Jenny had suggested the exact same thing, but it still feels like eons ago. So much has happened the last days. Usually time is a frozen entity at the ward, but after meeting Kurt it feels as if Blaine never has enough time to get to know him, spend time with him, think about their conversations, and get coffee for them.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," Kurt apologizes shyly, stepping out of their shared bathroom. "I just had a minor breakdown, trying to remember how to dress and act when in public," he rolls his eyes in self accusation and laughs humourlessly.

Blaine drops the magazine and is at Kurt's side within seconds. He wants to reassure the boy he doesn't have to act around Blaine and can be himself, but he knows that's quite a tall order for someone like them. They need their shields, guards and masks. And they need a lot of trust to let it all go. It's nothing he can force out of Kurt; he'll have to take it as a blessing if it ever happens. So instead he settles for praising Kurt's outfit, hoping to give the boy some reassurance.

"You look amazing! Stunning!" he gushes breathlessly, and OK, maybe that's a bit too much for a friend, but they've kissed, several times, so boundaries and norms seem fairly blurry for Blaine at the moment.

Blaine takes a step away to better appraise the clothes Kurt's sporting. He's actually wearing mostly the same clothes as earlier that day, but the short sleeved shirt is replaced with a long sleeved one. What's making the biggest difference is the hair. Blaine hasn't seen it styled like this before. His bangs have been hanging down his forehead, his hair looking messy and unruly in a straight out of the shower-way, and not in an immaculately styled-way. Now, however, it's modelled with care and precision into a really hot spiky finish.

"Ready to go?" Blaine gulps, feeling like a slob next to the model his roommate turns out to be.

Kurt nods as he finishes buttoning his pea coat, and secures a fine wool scarf around his neck.

Blaine opens the door and gestures for Kurt to exit first, and together they head for the staff room to get Tim.

The walk to the coffee bar is pleasant. Tim is keeping some distance behind the boys, acting more like a disguised bodyguard than a hovering chaperon. Blaine and Kurt are walking in comfortable silence, hands tucked in their pockets and scarves draped over the lower halves of their faces. It's a cold afternoon, their breaths creating smoke in the biting frost. There's a hint of snow in the air, but so far it's holding back. The pavement is draped with a frozen film, so they've slowed their pace to reduce the risk of accidents. It doesn't prevent Kurt from sliding, though, and Blaine instinctively wraps an arm around the boy's waist to steady him.

"Thank you," Kurt murmurs embarrassed. "I guess these boots were bough more for their aesthetic appeal than their sturdiness…"

Kurt smiles apologetically at Blaine, but his body language is tense and rigid, so Blaine drops his hand. Too much, in the wrong place. He understands. It was the Blaine who's always alert about other people's needs who acted without thinking; he didn't mean to make Kurt feel uncomfortable. Blaine silently berates himself for being so thoughtless, and forces his hand back in his pocket, keeping it under control.

Kurt is walking with his head downcast, as if he's carefully examining the pavement to make sure he doesn't slide again. Blaine suspects he's thinking, though, and hopes he isn't feeling overwhelmed. But if there's one thing Blaine feels certain about, it's Kurt letting them know if this is too much and he wants to go back. Kurt has nothing to prove and nothing to lose, and Blaine doesn't think he is one to fake or pretend just to please someone else. Kurt is snarky and witty and bitchy, and sometimes crudely rude, but he's also honest, and sometimes surprisingly open.

Blaine admires that about the boy, and wishes he could be more like him. Blaine is more like an eager border collie puppy, dying to please its master, eagerly waiting for the next command. And if the master doesn't tell the puppy what to do, the puppy will try all kinds of things to please his surroundings. Sometimes he succeeds, and sometimes he fails completely. But he always wants to try, to improve, to appease. When someone says _jump_, Blaine will excitedly ask _how high?_ Blaine wants to be different. Sometimes he just wants to be selfish and put his own needs and wishes in the front seat. He wonders how it would feel, to primarily take care of himself. There's a bittersweet longing in him, but he knows it isn't right. If nothing else, it's safer to be a polite, attentive gentleman. People are less prone to hurt someone who is invisible and kind.

"Where are we going?" Kurt asks, and Blaine realizes they just passed a coffee shop while he was lost in reveries.

"The best coffee is just a couple of blocks away, if that's OK with you? How are the shoes, are you struggling to stay on your feet?"

Kurt shakes his head, a small smile forcing its way across his face.

"It's OK. And if I should fall and break a bone, I'm already in a hospital, so what's the harm, huh?"

Kurt's crooked grin makes Blaine laugh as well.

"Way to be efficient, Mr. Hummel," he quips.

"Oh, you know how it is. Time is money, and such a busybody like me doesn't have time for nonsense like this, so I have to make sure to get the most out of it."

It's nice, Blaine thinks, walking and talking like this. For a short moment pretending their problems aren't really there anymore, acting as if they can be someone else, just relaxing and enjoying the other's company. It's all a charade, though. Blaine is sick, Kurt is sick, and they are going back to a mental institution. They will lose each other, and the connection they have is probably just a figment of Blaine's imagination, because they are bound to make it work while rooming together. Kurt joined him for coffee because he wants to be brave and face the world, not because he wants to spend time with Blaine.

* * *

Kurt has carefully paid attention to the surface he's walking on to prevent another embarrassing almost-accident. They have talked during most of their stroll, but now Blaine is silent. Kurt quickly glances up at him, not wanting to be caught staring. The expression on his face makes Kurt's stomach drop. He looks so sad and fragile. Is he regretting going with Kurt? Kurt, who had basically invited himself and forced himself as Blaine's company, is ruining Blaine's coffee.

"Maybe I should go back…" Kurt mumbles, and oh, he hadn't quite planned to say that out loud.

"Is it getting too much for you? Did we go too far? I should have stopped at the first coffee shop; I'm so sorry!" Blaine's words stumble out of his mouth, and his face is painted with remorse.

Both boys have stopped in the middle of the pavement, and from the corner of his eye Kurt can see Tim hesitantly watching them, but maintaining his distance of about fifteen feet.

"No, no, I'm OK," Kurt hurriedly reassures.

Truth be told, his focus has been on the ice and on Blaine, and he hasn't even had any time to worry about their surroundings yet.

"I just thought maybe you'd want to do this on your own after all…"

Blaine reaches out an arm as if to take Kurt's hand, but drops it before it's halfway.

"I really like spending time with you, and you aren't disturbing or interrupting anything. If you want to go back for your own good; I'll walk you back in a heartbeat. But if you really want to consider what _I'd_ prefer, I'd love to have coffee with you."

Kurt doesn't hesitate.

"OK."

"OK?"

"OK," he smiles, and Blaine continues their walk.

"It isn't far," he assures.

Blaine is right. Not even three minutes later, he stops in front of a glass door. Kurt gives the shop a quick once-over, and mentally shrugs. It looks nothing special; it's just an average looking shop with a lot of glass windows. They are filled with taped flyers in all colours and sizes, and as far as Kurt can see they are all for upcoming event – no old and outdated flyers to be seen, so there must be a system to the seemingly chaotic display.

Kurt meets Blaine's eyes, and the boy is looking questioningly at him. Kurt can only imagine how critical his expression must look, so he quickly plasters on a smile and steps inside. He turns around to make sure Tim knows where they are and are keeping up. Somehow, having Tim around is comforting, and Kurt feels somewhat safer.

The café is only half full, so it won't be a problem to find a table. Both boys queue up for coffee, Tim letting a young man with a stroller get in line in front of him. Kurt continues his examination of the shop, and it's fairly simple and plain, but clean and inviting. It screams IKEA all over the place, but it doesn't look cheap or half hearted. The tables are all identical, but the back of the chairs have different colours – one for each of the ten or so tables. Kurt assumes it makes it easier to get a big order served, if they can say they are sitting by the blue or the purple table. The lamps hanging over each table match the colours of the chairs, and if the walls and floors didn't have such neutral and calming colours, Kurt thinks the place would look like the home of the M&M-family.

Blaine thrusting a mug into Kurt's hands wakes him up from his interior analysis of the place, and he smiles awkwardly at his roommate.

"You didn't have to buy me coffee again."

"I wanted to. Besides, you weren't quite here," Blaine says teasingly, and Kurt blushes.

Blaine gestures for him to lead way to a table, so Kurt picks one in the furthest corner, with bright yellow chairs. Not long after, Tim sits down with a cup of tea and a newspaper by a table with blue chairs in the middle of the room, discreetly faced towards them.

Kurt takes a sip of his coffee, savouring it for as long as possible to avoid thinking about the awkward silence between them. The coffee is hot, his hands are numb from the cold, and he's shivering with anxiety. The mug trembles in his hands, and he spills some of the dark liquid on the table.

"I need napkins," he claims nervously, and shoots up from the chair to get back to the counter.

"Here, take some of mine, I always bring too many," Blaine gently offers, and slides them over to Kurt's end of the table.

"Thank you," Kurt whispers, and slowly sinks down into his chair again.

His heart is beating so fast, and he has tiny black dots in his vision. It's as if all his uncertainty and anxiety have exploded now that he's sitting down and is quiet enough to notice.

"I think you're brave," Blaine murmurs as Kurt finishes cleaning up.

His head shoots up, startled.

"Why?" he blurts out.

"I can see this is difficult for you, but you're still here. You didn't have to do this, but still you volunteered. I told you, remember? You're strong, you're still fighting. I admire you for that."

"You do this every single day," Kurt points out, pushing the attention back on Blaine.

"Because I'm told to. Because I have to. Because I don't feel like I have any choice. I still don't like it."

"You look fairly relaxed now, though," Kurt comments, and is amused when he notices how Blaine blushes and ducks his head.

"It may have something to do with my company," he says airily, and it's Kurt who blushes now.

"Even someone as scarred, broken and frightened as I am?"

"Kurt…" Blaine slowly reaches out an arm, and gently tickles his fingers on Kurt's hand. "I've never seen you as broken. We all have scars of some sort, and I'll tell you time and time again: I think you are brave."

Kurt absentmindedly turns his hand over, and their fingers start playing together.

"That's… That's not what I see in the mirror."

"I know. I know, Kurt." He gives Kurt's hand a gentle squeeze.

The bell chimes as a new customer enters the door, and Kurt yanks his hand away. He can't meet Blaine's eyes, and studies his own lap for a while. Strong and brave, huh?

He can still feel Blaine's eyes on him, and tries to raise his gaze subtly, only to find a set of oh so caring and understanding eyes. Kurt focuses on all the flyers in the background, though.

"You know about the _incident_, after the dance two years ago?"

Kurt nods.

"You know this is my fourth stay here?"

Kurt nods again.

"You know I go out on my own every day?"

Kurt nods yet again.

"Have you managed to fit the puzzle pieces together yet?"

Kurt finally meets his eyes, and he nods once, slowly.

"I… think so?"

"I always knew you were smart," Blaine smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, Kurt notices.

"You once said this is part of your treatment," Kurt explains. "So I figured it had to be important for doctor Whimchester to make you do this. And I'm guessing you have… _issues_, with being outside on your own. After your dance…"

Blaine nods.

"After the _attack_…" Blaine shivers as he forces out that ugly word. "I spent such a long time in the hospital to recover, and didn't see anyone else but doctors, nurses, police officers, and some family. I developed some kind of phobia while being so isolated. I don't like having people too close, and I'm skittish with touches and body contact, so I try to avoid it. But it's OK with people I trust," he adds and Kurt's emotions twirls between guilt for being so cuddly with and kissing Blaine, and relief and gratitude for being considered someone Blaine can relax and feel confident with.

"I guess I lost some abilities to trust people and to be social while I stayed isolated in the hospital, and I was petrified to go out alone. I was terrified, expecting someone to jump me around the next corner, not trusting anyone, and I got flashbacks and panic attacks. I'm much better, but it's still a struggle."

"Didn't any of your friends visit you?" Kurt has to ask, his curiousness is too strong. Blaine has gushed about his friends, surely they would have visited?

"It turns out I didn't have any good friends in school," Blaine snorts. "I transferred to re-do my freshman year, and has been there ever since. That's where I met the friends I've told you about. They are my safety and confidence, so doctor Whimchester wants me to work on that without being in touch with them. I need to get back on my feet on my own," Blaine sighs, clearly not pleased with the doctor's philosophy.

"You must miss them a lot."

"I do!"

Blaine's smile shows clearly how much he loves his friends.

"I thrive in the school and my friends are amazing, but I don't need to be outside a lot. I spend almost all my time either in school or in my room doing homework or hanging out with my friends. So my public confidence slowly weakens, until I end up here again…"

Blaine looks so sad and defeated, and Kurt can't stand it, so he tries to take the conversation in another direction.

"Tell me more about your friends?" he suggests, and Blaine instantly beams.

"We call ourselves The Fab Five, although not all of them are gay. They're my closest friends, and I don't know what I'd do without them. They are crazy and we have a lot of fun, but they're also intelligent and mature listening when I need it, they knock some sanity to my head when I need it, and we're there for each other. They never make me feel like some damaged, mental nut case. We all have our struggles," he shrugs. "Sometimes they have a fashion emergency, a heart break, a song selection crisis, or an impossible paper to hand in. We help each other and are there for each other, and I'm so grateful for them. But I know they feel the same way about me too."

"They seem amazing," Kurt smiles. They must be, Blaine wouldn't pick bad friends.

"They are. But you seem to have pretty wonderful friends too," Blaine nods, and takes a rich sip of his coffee.

"I do. I'm just not really good at appreciating them…"

"I know. We've all been there, forcing people away when they could have been helping us instead," Blaine waves with his free hand, brushing it off as if it's nothing. Kurt smiles gratefully.

"It's an odd mismatch of people, but we seem to work well together anyway."

"Like the flower bouquet," Blaine winks, and Kurt can't help but laugh.

"Like the flowers, yes. I think everybody has dated each other at some point, but despite of all the jealousy, intrigues, fights, cheating and teenage hormones, we seem to stick together anyway."

Blaine smiles so bright Kurt suspects he noticed his slip up saying "we" instead of "they".

"Tell me more about them," Blaine sweetly encourages, so Kurt does just that.

He talks about his almost-step brother, and how he set up Finn's mother with his own father. He talks about Finn thinking he was going to be a dad, Puck trying to be a dad, Quinn looking to find herself again through pink hair and cigarettes, Tina and Mike being his role model for a long lasting relationship, how Santana is the only one who can out-sarcasm him. He saddens when he talks about his best friend Mercedes, and remembers how distant she had been during the visit, almost avoiding him. He hasn't even gotten a text from her after that. But Blaine gently coaxes him past the sadness, and Kurt finds himself talking about Artie and Brittany as the oddest couple on earth.

"Hey guys, I'm sorry to interrupt," a soft voice interjects in Blaine and Kurt's discussion over which musical will still be considered groundbreaking in 50 years. Blaine is a firm, but sad, believer _Rent_ will still be able to provoke the audience, while Kurt thinks those who are different will still be able to relate to _Wicked_. Kurt looks up to see Tim standing by their table.

"We've been here for almost an hour and a half, and I'm afraid we have to go back for dinner."

"Oh, I'm sorry, we must have lost track of time," Blaine apologizes, ever so polite, Kurt muses.

Both boys get up to wrap themselves in their coats and scarves, and Kurt makes a quick detour to the counter to drop the coffee soaked napkins in the trash.

They walk back to the ward in the same manner as they left it, with Tim walking behind them at some distance. Kurt and Blaine subtly discuss the different colour coordination's of hat, scarf and mittens they see on their passer-by's.

* * *

Kurt has found that perfect angle to lie in, which allows him to squint slightly to the right behind his book, and fill all of his vision with Blaine. He only has to remind himself to turn to a new page now and then, to not seem suspicious.

Blaine is leaning against his pillows, one foot planted on the mattress, and the other resting by the ankle over his knee. It makes his already short pants ride up even more, showing more of that tan ankle. It's almost glowing, like a holy sliver of skin too precious to be touched, on an altar of Blaine, a revealed secret reserved for that one worthy enough. The sky blue fabric of his pants is stretched tight over his thighs, ready to be worshipped by someone clean and virtuous enough. The black shirt accentuates his beautiful chest and arms, the grey suspenders adding a teasing edge, leading Kurt into temptation. Blaine is sinfully attractive, and Kurt isn't worthy. He can only admire from a distance, wallowing in envy of that faceless someone who some day will earn the honour of being Blaine's.

He lifts his eyes even further; to Blaine's downcast eyes, reading some school book his strong arms are holding up, and really, that book is hardly heavy, but it still pronounces his muscles where Blaine has rolled up his shirt sleeves. His lips are moving, forehead furrowed, as if he's repeating a difficult sentence to himself. Kurt is transfixed by his lips, and can't believe the blessing to know how they feel, how they taste.

Kurt worries he's corrupting Blaine, poisoning his worth by his shear presence, by his actions, by his want, by his brokenness.

"A penny for your thoughts."

Blaine's voice startles Kurt. He's so lost in his own mind he didn't even notice the book he was not reading falling out of his hands.

"I'm just… pensive."

"Anything I can help you with?"

Kurt god damn snorts at that. Of course that kind hearted soul will offer to help. Of course he'll risk tainting himself with someone like Kurt.

Blaine lays down his book, after giving it a quick glance, probably to remember which page he is on, rolls out of bed and finishes the few feet separating their two beds. He smiles sadly at Kurt.

"May I?" he carefully asks, and hesitantly touches Kurt's mattress with his index finger.

Kurt nods, once, and scoots over to give room. Blaine smoothly climbs into the bed, lying down next to Kurt.

"Want to talk about what's on your mind?"

"Not really."

"OK," Blaine says softly, and takes Kurt's hand instead.

And that's the sweetest thing about Blaine, Kurt thinks. He never pushes, he's never intrusive, he never oversteps. He's just there, being amazingly tentative and perfect.

_Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way myself._ Kurt rolls over to lie on his side. He hesitates for a moment, holding his breath, but carefully lets his arm slide to rest over Blaine's stomach, their hands still interlaced between their bodies. Blaine puts his other arm over Kurt's, rubbing a slow thumb over his elbow. _I'm going to hurt you, and I don't know if I can prevent it._ A shiver runs through Kurt, and Blaine squeezes his hand. _How can I stay away from you? You need to get out of here; away from me._

* * *

Blaine fondly watches the sleeping boy in his arms. One of his arms is sleeping too, but he won't move it, risking waking up Kurt. Margaret had quickly popped by their room to tell Blaine he didn't need to go on his solitary outing today, because he had been outside for so long with Kurt. They had eaten dinner when they got back, and they have no other plans or program for the rest of the evening.

Blaine enjoys watching Kurt sleep, in a non-creepy-Cullen-way. The boy finally relaxes when he's off to Dreamland, softening his features and body posture. He always seems so tense, guarded and hesitant. Blaine knows from his own experience it hurts to be that stiff for so long. The muscles in your body start working against you, you begin feeling sore and beaten up more and more often until it seems permanent, and your body is craving for long hot showers and deep body massages. The thought and memories make him run a hand up and down Kurt's back, as he lies with his head resting on Blaine's chest. Blaine feels so protective of Kurt, and it's a new and alien feeling. For so long he's been the one needing to be taken care of, been the one other looks after, been the one who needs support and assistance. He still does, but a part of him feels strong enough and ready to be someone for somebody else as well. His friends have given him so, so much since the transfer, and Blaine always feels as if he's in dept to them. They always brush it off whenever he brings up the topic, but he can't help but feel they are being better friends to him than he is to them. Maybe getting Kurt into his life is the universe's way of giving him a chance to give something back to someone.

The funny thing is, this feels nothing like paying off his dues, or working to achieve better karma. It's just this intrinsic core need in him to be whatever Kurt will let him be. It feels easy, natural, and so, so necessary.

He thinks about how much and how little he knows about the boy. For instance, he doesn't know where he lives or which school he attends. He only knows he lives close enough to the psychiatric ward for his friends and family to visit him. He thinks his Glee club had been introduced in the video they had been watching on his phone, but the sound quality hadn't been the best, and the emcee's voice had been quite squeaky and distant. Blaine doesn't want to pry or snoop, he doesn't want to overstep.

He has no idea what so ever what their limits and boundaries with each other are. Although they kiss and make out, he doesn't feel he can ask Kurt any kind of question. That's why he's holding back, waiting for Kurt to bring up topics, letting the other boy decide what can be brought out into the open. Everything still feels too fragile and vulnerable, and he doesn't want to risk upsetting him and pushing him away. He still treads carefully, but hoping to be able to walk more firmly as their relationship – whatever its nature – gets more solid, and can take more. He wants to push to get to know Kurt better, but he doesn't want to risk breaking anything either. So he is being patient, letting Kurt in charge of their journey, and focusing on enjoying the ride.

Blaine sighs, deeply. His hand is itching to run through Kurt's hair, which is still fairly spiky and tempting after he styled it for their coffee who-knows-if-it's-a-date. He wants to nuzzle the crook where Kurt's neck meets Kurt's shoulder. He wants to kiss him, everywhere. He wants to taste him, touch him, smell him. They haven't talked about what this is, what they are doing. Blaine knows himself well enough to realize he'll need the talk eventually. He can sometimes be so clueless, and needs some things to be spelled out for him. He likes Kurt. A lot. The more he gets to know about him, the more he likes him. But he doesn't know where Kurt is standing.

* * *

Kurt yawns and stretches. As he gets more and more awake, he realizes he's lying on top of someone, and glowing with embarrassment he scrambles off.

"I'm sorry…" he whispers.

"You have no reason to be," Blaine softly murmurs, rolling over on his side to face Kurt.

"Are you schizophrenic?" Kurt blurts out, and immediately regrets it when the words resonate in his own ears. That is so rude, snooping in other people's mental history, and Kurt doesn't even seriously think that's Blaine's case. He groans, and tries to get out of bed.

"Sorry, I'm so, so sorry, can I blame it on a sleepy brain? That was rude and uncalled for. I'll just… Go sit in the common's room or something."

Blaine chuckles, and loops his arms around Kurt's waist as the boy tries to step over him to get out. He yanks him down, and Kurt lands with a loud "umph" on Blaine's torso.

"You can't just pop such a random question, and then rush out of here," Blaine actually giggles, so OK, maybe Kurt didn't insult him anyway?

"No, schizophrenia isn't part of my diagnosis, but I'm curious why you think so."

Kurt is silent for a long moment, trying to put words to his thoughts, and sort them in a reasonable order that would convey some kind of sense to Blaine.

"Am I… different?" he tries, to put focus on himself instead of the stupid accusation he'd put on Blaine.

"Different than who?" Blaine asks, clearly confused.

"Different than me."

"I don't think I follow…"

Kurt sighs, and rolls over on his side to face Blaine. Blaine rests an arm on Kurt's waist, and smiles reassuringly at him.

"Am I always me, am I constant and predictable? Or does it seem like I have different personalities?"

"You're everything but predictable, but that's also because I don't know you that well yet. But to me you are always you. I think you're honest and trustworthy, although a bit guarded, but nobody can blame you for that," Blaine says carefully, and rubs a thumb over Kurt's waist below the vest fabric. "What makes you ask about this?"

Kurt sighs again, he'll have to include Blaine's own behaviour into this anyway.

"It's just that… Tina, remember her?"

Blaine nods, so Kurt continues.

"She just made a comment on how she perceived you which didn't match with my opinion of you. And then I saw you interact with my dad, and that was a different Blaine than the one I know. And there have been other situations, where I'm not quite sure who _you_ really are. Or how many Blaine's you are."

Kurt notices how Blaine's lips twitches, as if he's suppressing laughter, and although he isn't particularly fond of being laughed at, he can appreciate it now. It must mean he hasn't insulted him badly.

"I thought I was good at observing people, but you aren't so bad at it yourself," Blaine chuckles.

Kurt guesses it comes from his past eager tendency to study all kinds of dance and acting, and his tedious work to get into and stay in a character. He doesn't say any of this to Blaine, though; it would only mean talking about a broken future and dissolved dreams.

"I guess I can seem like different personas sometimes. It's no act, I don't intend to be fake," Blaine quickly adds. "It's just a strategy to survive and means to feel safer, you know?"

Kurt nods, because he does get it. It's why he changed his fashion statements to something more subtle, it's why he quit Glee, it's why he tried to become transparent in the hallways, it's why he abandoned his friends.

"Sometimes it's a conscious effort, and sometimes it comes without my awareness. We all act according to different settings, and I just extrapolate some of my qualities and personal traits when I think it's needed."

"You protect yourself by consciously choosing what to show and what to hide of yourself?"

Blaine nods.

"And because you have seen me in different situations, you've gotten to see different Blaine's too. Do I seem fake to you?"

Kurt thinks about it for a moment to make sure he gives Blaine the right answer.

"No, I have to say there's always a core of Blaine in everything you say and do. It can be confusing, but I understand better now what you do."

"It's just something I need to do to get by," he says apologetically, and Kurt scoots closer, running a hand soothingly over Blaine's arm.

"I get it, I do. I guess for now I'm mostly curious about who you _are_; which one is the bare, unguarded, non-pretending Blaine?"

"I… I'm not always so sure, anymore," Blaine whispers softly. "I'm always so aware of my surroundings; I rarely let my guard down."

Blaine looks as if he wants to add something, but he doesn't.

"Do _I_… _change_? With context?"

"You do," Blaine shrugs, as if it isn't a big deal. "But I also notice you have mood swings, and you have good and not as good moments. But…"

Again it looks as if Blaine prevents himself from adding something.

"But what?"

Blaine is staring at the ceiling for a while.

"I get you, because I've been there," he finally concludes. "Sometimes I feel like I know you, even though you can be different from time to time. Besides, I don't think people generally are straightforward and one dimensional. I think both you and I have several different qualities and characteristics, so if you should seem incoherent in a setting maybe it's just because I'm getting to know a new side of you?"

"God, I think I'm having an existential crisis. Who am I really?"

"Maybe we can find out together?" Blaine suggests, and Kurt can't help himself but lean in to seal the deal with a kiss.

"You make me feel less scared," he admits whisperingly into Blaine's pliant lips.


	25. Pillow Talk

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews to my last chapter! Some of you I can't answer, but know that you are appreciated as well!**

**I've gotten several requests and questions about Blaine and why he's at the hospital, so I hope this will please you.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

_Papa Don't Preach_ blares and roars Blaine from his sleep. He hurries to hit the mute button on his phone, hoping his ringtone hasn't woken up Kurt. He squints on the lit screen to see it's only 4 AM. Of course. But somewhere in the world it's noon and lunch, and every Monday at that hour his father will make this phone call. Blaine quickly goes through his options. He isn't comfortable about answering his father's calls in the hallway, in case someone from the staff will hear him. He wants to digest the conversation before he lets anyone in on it. But he doesn't want to disturb or wake up Kurt either. Blaine sighs, rolls out of bed and locks the bathroom door behind him.

"Good morning, father, where in the world are you this week?" he asks with a low voice.

Blaine does his best to hide the tired roughness from his voice. His father always seems to forget about – or ignore - the time zone differences, and it's easier to _not_ give off an impression of having been woken up than getting a lecture of being a lazy sleepyhead in bed.

"Good morning, son, this is Moscow calling," his father laughs.

Mr. Anderson loves to travel and be in new parts of the world, so the company recently going international is just perfect for him. Blaine wouldn't mind travel either, but he wants to see more of the world than airports and business offices. He doesn't want to merely collect stamps in his passport from the border securities; he wants to see, smell, taste and hear different cultures and countries.

"Ah, dobriy den'," Blaine greets carefully.

"Why are you whispering, son? Nobody listens to a mumbler. Speak up and claim authority, you have to earn it to get it."

"I know, father, and I'm sorry. I just don't want to disturb my roommate."

"Oh, roommate, so you're finally back in school," his father seems pleased.

"No," Blaine stifles a sigh. "I'm still at Bellefontaine."

"Care to explain why we pay extra for your bigger room with extra facilities so you can keep up with your school work, and still there's somebody else intruding on you?"

"It's not like that. There were an emergency and they ran out of beds, so this was the best solution."

His father makes a displeased sound.

"For how long have this been going on?"

"Since Thanksgiving," Blaine replies, and he can hear the faint sound of pencil scratching paper. He expects his father will make a call to Christy later on, expressing his worries about the unfairness of him paying for somebody else's care and treatment. It's stupid, really. His father is so loaded the hospital bills hardly make a dent in his account. But isn't it always so? Cheapskates get richer and richer. Blaine's never missed anything in the material department, though, so he isn't all extreme.

"I talked with your mother."

Blaine doesn't say anything, but he suspects what's coming up.

"Why didn't you spend Thanksgiving with your family, Blaine Valério?"

Blaine manages to cover up the microphone on his phone before his whimpered sigh forces its way out. It isn't often his father uses both his names, but when he does… He could try lying and say the staff didn't want him to leave, but he never knows when his father decides to show any interest in his health and talk with doctor Whimchester. That's why Blaine's almost always honest with his father. Not because they have an open, trusting relationship, but because he doesn't know what cards his father has up his sleeve, and what his poker face hides.

"I…"

"Have you made it a habit to waste away people's time by letting them wait for your answers? If you're going to be a successful lawyer, you have to be able to think on the spot. And as your father I wouldn't expect you having to look for explanations."

Blaine wants to throw his phone against the ceramic bathroom tiles. He knows this is his father's way of giving him constructive criticism to prepare him for life as a grown up, giving him pointers on where to improve to be a better whatever. But it isn't what he needs at the moment.

"I chose to stay here," he finally admits. "I didn't see the point in flying in for just a day or two, just a waste of money," he adds, hoping that's a language his father understands and respects.

His father is silent for a moment. Blaine can't hear any kind of background noise or sounds from his father, and he wonders what's going on.

"Son… If there's one thing I want you to learn in life, it's the value of _famiglia_. There's always a point in seeing your own family, and should always be your priority _numero uno_."

Blaine wants to snort, but settles with one of the patronizing eye rolls Kurt would have given. These words are his mother's. His father doesn't even bother to hide it, but plays out the phrases his mother would have used in a discussion like this. Blaine shakes his head in disbelief at how his father is trying to use his conscience against him. He wants to ask where his father was during Thanksgiving, and how much of the family he saw, but he bites his tongue. This isn't worth fighting over; it's in the past as far as Blaine sees it.

"Blaine Valério…" His father sighs. "You've been at Bellefontaine for three weeks now. Isn't it about time you get back to school?"

"I'm scared, father," he admits.

"And hiding in the middle of Ohio is going to make it better?"

Blaine hates it when his father is right.

"I think it's about time you act the adult you claim to be, and get back to school. You're already a year behind, it's about time you finish high school and get your real life started. Maybe if you put your mind to it, you could graduate earlier."

Blaine shrinks inwardly, and sinks down on the floor in the dark room. He's a junior, but his old classmates from the school he left will be graduating in less than six months. There's no way Blaine can finish his junior and senior year in one semester. Even his father has to see that, right?

"I'm doing my best, father, I really am."

"I don't doubt you think you are, and I'm merely doing a father's duty to push you a little so you can be even better. You have so much potential, son. The internship in San Francisco is waiting for you, if you're still going to be… gay."

His father always says that word as if it's a bit odd in his mouth, like a Russian or Greek word he's trying out for the first time.

"I'm still gay, and I'll always be gay, dad," Blaine sighs, and he feels like a little kid every time they have this conversation, as if his four year old self is trying to explain the deep philosophy in the world of Teletubbies to a grown up who's never seen the show before.

"Yes, well, we have talked about this before. The internship is for a promising project directed towards a new potential clientele, and we need someone who can do the part and be an asset. Are you trying to disappoint me?"

Blaine clearly hears the unsaid "again", and a tear slowly falls down his face.

"No, sir…" he whispers.

"I'll talk to doctor Whimchester later today, find out if there's any way we can speed up your treatment. Maybe you can have several of those therapy sessions a day instead of one each day. That hardly seems efficient."

Blaine nods hard enough for more tears to fall down. His father doesn't understand that his healing takes time.

"I have a meeting in ten minutes, so I have to hunt down that god damn interpreter again, but it was nice catching up with you, son."

"Bye, dad," Blaine whispers as his father ends the conversation.

He stays put on the hard, cold bathroom floor for a long while, crying his heart out and biting down on the fleshy area by his thumb to mute the sobs. Eventually his butt and back hurt too much from sitting uncomfortably, and he all but crawls back in bed. He chucks the phone on his nightstand, and when the screen lights up he sees it's already half past five in the morning. He pulls the cover over his head, clutches the pillow in his arms, and lets the rest of his tears escape.

* * *

Kurt is a light sleeper, so when Madonna had started to sing in his room, he'd been startled. He'd seen Blaine grab his phone and dart off to the bathroom, so he'd rolled over to sleep more. He'd been too far gone to be able to reflect on the oddity of the early phone call or notice how long Blaine was away.

The next time Kurt wakes up, it's to an unidentified sound from across the room. Something looking like a horizontal ghost is tossing and throwing itself around in Blaine's bed. Kurt shakes his head as if it'll clear things up, and steps out of bed. He turns on the lamp over Blaine's bed. Someone he assumes is Blaine is completely covered in the white thick fabric, and is either having a seizure or a nightmare. Muffled sounds lets Kurt conclude it's the latter, so he pries the covers away from Blaine's head and shoulders. The boy is curled up in foster position, clutching to a pillow like it's his umbilical cord, but slowly rolling from side to side. Kurt takes a firm hold of the boy's shoulders to stop his movements.

"Blaine, wake up," he says calmly. He once read you shouldn't upset or scare someone having a nightmare, as that could make everything worse.

"Blaine, it's Kurt, I need you to wake up."

The boy seems to slow down his movements, but his eyes are still closed, and he's mumbling something Kurt can't understand.

"Perdono, papa, io sono colui che sono."

"Blaine…"

Kurt doesn't know what Blaine says, except it's beautiful, and he really shouldn't focus on _that_ when the boy clearly is upset. He caresses the boy's cheek, slowly running his hand from his temple to his chin, down and down. The gentle movement seems to calm him down, as he lies still, and he hasn't said anything for some minutes now.

"Blaine, wake up…"

Tired dark eyes finally look up at him, and Kurt gives him a soft smile.

"Hey… You had a nightmare."

"I know," Blaine croaks. "It was awful."

"Do you want to go back to sleep? It's still a couple of hours until breakfast."

Blaine seems to be thinking about it, and opens his mouth as if to say something a couple of times. Finally he finds the words he was looking for.

"Can you..? Will you..? Just until I've fallen asleep?"

Blaine looks so tiny and sad, his skin pale in the little light his bed lamp provides, and he's still curled up, anchored to his pillow.

"Scoot over," Kurt orders, and crosses the room to pick up his own pillow.

He climbs under Blaine's covers, resting his head on his pillow. Blaine seems to have decided he'd rather use the pillow under his head than in his arms. They lay stiffly next to each other, looking awkwardly at the other, smiling shyly.

"Come here," Kurt finally suggests, opening his arms.

He'll have to be the brave one tonight, and Blaine has done so much for Kurt. Blaine shuffles over, and lays his head on Kurt's outstretched arm, keeping a distance between their bodies. Kurt wants to laugh; this is a bit silly, really, so he pulls the boy closer and holds him with both arms.

"Go to sleep, I've got you," he promises.

Not until Blaine's breathing evenly and his chest's moving steadily does Kurt close his eyes to drift away as well. _I hope Margaret is the one to serve us breakfast tomorrow_, is his last thought before he falls asleep.

* * *

When Kurt wakes up, he's alone in Blaine's bed, and the trolley with breakfast catches his attention. One of the big mugs has been used for coffee, but otherwise it doesn't seem like anything has been touched. The bathroom door is almost closed, and Kurt knocks just in case before peaking inside. It's empty.

Kurt tries to convince himself to not worry as he checks his phone for any texts. It's not like anything dangerous can have happened, Blaine is probably nearby. He spins aimlessly around the room, not knowing what he's looking for, but being open for any kind of signs which can explain where Blaine is. Finally he resigns, and decides to take a shower. He isn't brave enough to leave the room without knowing where Seth is. It's too early in the morning, and his defence mechanisms are still slumbering.

The warm water caresses his body and makes him all lax and mushy, leaning against the tiles and letting the heat embrace him, lull him to relaxation. He's always so tense, so stiff, so on the edge. A scolding hot shower helps for a while, but as soon as he's out and draped in a towel, his body closes up again. His shoulders and back are constantly aching, sometimes leading to tension headaches as well. He's tried a lot of different things to improve. Painkillers, jogging, yoga, better shoes, herbal tea, that time he was drunk in school thanks to Miss Rhodes' generosity, porn – and that only made him even more tense, and not in a good way.

Now his physical pains have been some kind of a constant, and it's usually only in the shower he thinks about it, because it momentarily gets better. Of course, the locker checks and dumpster tossings in school did nothing to improve his situation, but it was a different kind of pain, and sometimes it was even a welcomed pain. It was something specific and particular. He could watch a bruise and tell himself the pain would subdue as the bruise faded away. There was something satisfying about that discovery. He could monitor and predict his pain and its absence, and it was one of the few things left he felt he had a grain of control over.

The only thing that had made all his pain bearable, had been finding distractions. For the longest time, singing, dancing and acting with New Directions had been the ultimate distraction for him. It had helped him pull it through, until one day it wasn't enough, and he had spent the next three months thinking about what he now could turn to, to make things bearable. He'd considered drinking, but his only experience had taught him that the day after wasn't worth the sweet numbing of his consciousness. He'd briefly thought about drugs, but really, that wasn't an option. Not even Puck could get hands on that, and he'd considered it too risky, you never knew for certain what you'd get. He'd understood sex could be a nice distraction, but again, porn wasn't his thing, masturbation only got him that far, and who could a lonely gay teen in Ohio hook up with? Besides, the thought of sex had kind of freaked him out too; being naked in front of a stranger, doing things he didn't know how to do. Sex could hardly be good enough to be worth the awkwardness, embarrassment and humiliation he was bound to experience.

And then Kurt's creativity and imagination had gone kind of blank. Reading fashion magazines, creating designs, making clothes, shopping, hanging out with friends, watching his favourite musicals – nothing worked anymore. Everything was tedious, unnecessary, boring, and just activities to pass time. Nothing really helped, nothing made him forget, nothing gave him anything of value. He had been clinging to that straw of hope; he had been trying so hard for so long. The idea of ending it all had been more and more prominent in his mind. Kurt was lost in an ocean of hopelessness and despair, and one day he stopped his frantic swimming, and let himself sink under the cold, dark water.

He woke up in the ER in Lima, where he stayed for 48 hours before he was transferred to the emergency psychiatric ward for youth in Bellefontaine.

And here he is. He doesn't know what tomorrow brings; he hardly knows what he'll be doing in two hours. But it's OK, for now. He is fed, nursed, protected and fairly rested. It's nice, having a break from the real world.

So he gets dressed, towels his hair, and moulds and sprays it off of his face, and gets out to see if his stomach wants any of the breakfast they've been brought.

He stops when he sees Blaine sitting slumped in bed. He's panting, and holds a half emptied bottle of water in a death grip. A sweaty tank top is clinging to his chest, and drops of sweat are running down his temples. His hair is unruly and a mess, like he's run his hands through it several times, shaping it anew in his own sweat. Two boxing gloves are nestled in his lap, legs crossed Indian style.

Kurt gets a flash from last week, when he'd seen Blaine come out of the elevator early in the morning, looking similar to this. He'd said something about an early phone call waking him up. Kurt didn't look at his watch this night, so he doesn't know if Blaine's phone had chimed really late or ungodly early, but he may be spotting a pattern.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asks, not knowing what else to say. He's in no position to ask questions about his whereabouts or express any worry.

Blaine empties the water bottle and shakes his head.

"I can't stomach any food now," he mutters.

Kurt brings a cup of coffee to the desk next to Blaine's bed, and twirls back and fro on the chair. He tries not to stare, but Blaine looks really off. Now that he's closer, he can see the distant expression in his eyes, it's as if he's watching something far, far away, or maybe not watching anything at all. His otherwise expressive face is a blank slate of apathy. He hasn't acknowledged Kurt's presence in any other way than answering his question dutifully. Truth be told, Kurt is feeling a bit scared, he doesn't know how to deal with this.

"The shower is still nice and warm if you…"

"Yeah," Blaine interjects him, and leaves.

It's almost an hour later when Blaine steps out of the bathroom again. Kurt's anxiously spent the time eating breakfast and fiddling with his nail file. He'd tried reading, but couldn't focus, so he'd taken the file and worked on his nails just to keeps his hands idle. Melinda had come by to pick up the food trolley, but otherwise they've been left on their own.

Blaine doesn't look at him, but he doesn't have to for Kurt to immediately notice his red rimmed eyes. He quickly climbs into bed, and buries himself in the covers with his back to Kurt.

Kurt doesn't know what to do. Should he say something? What can he say? Or is it better to leave Blaine alone? Should he stay? Should he leave? What does Blaine need now? Should he offer to put up the curtain screen? Will Blaine see it as the offer of privacy Kurt means it to be, or will he interpret it as being pushed away?

Kurt is saved from further pondering by a knock on the door.

"Hey," Thomas says cheerfully as he opens the door. "You have an appointment with doctor Whimchester in five minutes."

Kurt nods and jumps down from his bed, but throws a quick glance at Blaine's still body.

In the common's room, Thomas stops briefly by Matthew and whispers something in his ear. Kurt notices Matthew leave in the direction of the bedrooms as he steps into the conversation room to wait for the doctor.

"Good morning, Kurt, how have you been since last time?" doctor Whimchester greets sincerely as he enters the room.

"That's a big question," Kurt answers, not without a smile.

"Yes, your weekend ended up quite differently from what we expected. But you turned down the offer to see me anyway."

"Yes," Kurt answers carefully, not sure if he's trouble for doing the wrong thing. "At the time I didn't have the need to talk with anyone, I was doing… good enough, on my own?" He doesn't mean to turn it into a question, but his uncertainty forces his voice to go up by the end of the sentence.

"I'm proud of you, Kurt."

Oh. Well, that was unexpected.

"You got thrown surprises we couldn't have imagined, and it didn't break you. You got up and fought on, and from the reports I've read you've even challenged and pushed yourself this weekend."

Kurt can't help but blush and study his kneecaps for a moment. He's not used to compliments being thrown his way like that.

"Kurt has really proved he's a strong fighter this weekend," Thomas adds, and his words remind him of those of Blaine's. Huh. Weird.

"How do you feel right now?" the doctor asks.

"Exhausted and overwhelmed," Kurt answers truthfully.

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Your family came to visit, there was Thanksgiving, you accepted getting a room mate, you met Seth, you've shared space and air with someone else for several days, your father came to see you again, and you went outside with Blaine for coffee. That's a very busy weekend right there. Did I forget anything?"

"I don't think I told Margaret, but I got a text on Saturday that made me all teary eyed, but in a good way."

"Would you like to tell us about it?"

The doctor is patient, and truly makes Kurt feel as if this is his decision alone. So Kurt explains the competition system of show choirs, and how his friends were on stage this weekend.

"A teacher sent me a video of their performance," he says as he pulls out his phone from his pocket, scrolls through to the right message, and gives it to Thomas and the doctor. "Push play when you're ready."

Thomas exhales in a whistle, but the doctor doesn't say anything until their performance is done.

"This gave you happy tears."

Kurt nods.

"Remember those talks we've had about feeling loved?" he says cheekily, and the doctor nods, shoulders bouncing with silent laugher. "That video kind of helped plenty," Kurt grins.

Both the doctor and Thomas grin back at him.

"Have you talked with your friends afterwards?"

"I did. I cried. And laughed."

"Crying is always OK, and laughing is even better," Thomas smiles so genuinely it makes Kurt think they honestly care about him.

"Tell us about the coffee date, that surprised me in the best ways," doctor Whimchester encourages.

"We're not dating," Kurt explains hurriedly, to erase away any misconceptions. "Blaine wondered a couple of times if I wanted to join him. I think I can call him a friend, we get along well. Anyway, I didn't want to go out, because I was afraid. But then Seth happened, and I couldn't stop thinking how useless every precaution ends up being. I decided to fake some braveness, and joined Blaine."

"You aren't faking braveness when you actually pull it through, Kurt. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Kurt snorts at that.

"It isn't much strength in a boy that shivers on his chair and gets skittish with any kind of touches."

The doctor looks questioningly at him.

"Blaine and I have a somewhat tactile relationship," Kurt mumbles. "Oh God, not in that way!" he hurriedly adds, blushing violently as Thomas chuckles. "We just hold hands and cuddle now and then. It's… It's nice…"

"Body contact releases endorphins, which is a hormone that makes us feel happier and better. It's also a nice confirmation for the self esteem that somebody wants to be that close to you. And it's also a big fat vote of confidence to let someone in that close in that way," doctor Whimchester says, neither teasingly nor condescendingly.

"Is that why the nightmares ended the night Blaine slept in my bed?"

"The endorphins may very well have played an important part for your improved sleep. But it can also be because your subconsciousness considers Blaine safe, so you felt comforted and protected with his so close."

Kurt nods, it seems plausible.

"Did anything scare you during the coffee? You said you were shivering and skittish."

"Nothing special. Just everything and everybody. You know," Kurt shrugs, and rolls his eyes. It earns him a muffled chuckle from Thomas.

"If I told you we'd release you tomorrow, what would be your worst fear?"

Kurt stares wide eyed at the doctor. Seriously? Where the fuck did that come from?

Kurt exhales slowly, filling his mouth with air and looking like an acorn stocking up on hazelnuts.

He would be scared about going home, having to settle in with the new routines and rhythms there, still not used to Carole and Finn living with them. He'd be wary about his dad and his worries and concern. He'd dread meeting his friends, having to look them in the eyes after all that has gone down. But his biggest fear, obstacle and nightmare…

"I'm anything but ready to go back to school. I… I just can't. That place is literally killing me."

"We're not planning to release you tomorrow. I wanted to know what you think about your nearest future. You're not going to be here forever, but you'll still need help even after you cross that threshold. How do you feel about being here?"

"I like it," Kurt quickly answers. He has to think for a moment to explain himself, though. "I'm constantly feeling overwhelmed by life and reality, and I think too much. I feel too much. This has been a good break from the real world. It's like hitting the pause button to give me a chance to get my breath back."

* * *

When Kurt enters their room again, Blaine is still under his covers in bed. It almost looks as if he hasn't moved since Kurt left, except he's facing the other way now. Kurt climbs into his own bed. He's exhausted and drained from the conversation with doctor Whimchester, and it doesn't take long before he's fast asleep.

* * *

Blaine yawns and stretches, curling up his body before unfolding again. He rubs his dry eyes, and tries to understand why he's awake.

"There you are, Blaine, welcome to the world of living. I've brought lunch, you must be hungry," Melinda says, nodding at the trolley by the foot of his bed.

"Not really," Blaine groans.

"That's probably because you're still half asleep. Get up from bed and move around to activate your hunger," she suggests.

Blaine shrugs, but at least he sits up, punching the pillows to give his back some support.

He looks over at the other bed, where Kurt is fast asleep. He briefly wonders what went down with Kurt while he slept, why the boy is even further away in Dreamland than Blaine himself was.

Groggily, he stumbles into the bathroom to pee and splash some cold water in his face, and by the time he's out again Kurt is out of bed and Melinda is gone. Blaine gives the trolley a quick glance, but nothing catches his fancy, and he really isn't hungry. He sighs, and crawls back into bed. He can feel Kurt's eyes on him, but ignores it and buries his head in the pillows, tucking the covers over him, and desperately hoping for sleep to come back easily.

* * *

Blaine still doesn't look good, Kurt concludes. He'd looked awful this morning, and it doesn't seem as if his sleep has improved anything. Kurt notices he still doesn't want to eat anything. And Kurt still doesn't know what to do. Clearly, Blaine wants to sleep, so maybe he should just let him be. It doesn't make Kurt feel less awkward, though. Should he stay, or get out of the room?

Kurt slowly eats his chicken salad, while all his thoughts and worries flow around in his mind. Seth is still in the ward, so Kurt really doesn't want to be in the common's room. Then he remembers how Blaine had encouraged him to nap in front of him, because he was used to roommates doing so. So maybe Blaine also is used to sleeping with other people in his room? Kurt decides to stay for a while and read in Blaine's book. It'll be nice to get his mind on something else than the weekend and the conversation with doctor Whimchester.

* * *

Blaine stays asleep for the rest of the day. Thomas and Matthew comes by right before dinner to check with the boys if there's anything they need to know to complete their reports before they leave for the day. But Matthew leaves immediately, and doesn't even bother to wake up Blaine when Kurt tells the boy has slept 99 per cent of the time since breakfast.

"Come on, Kurt, you're joining us in the common's room," Thomas says when Kurt has finished his dinner.

"I'd rather not," he says silently. Both to avoid disturbing Blaine, and to avoid offending Thomas.

"Seth will be in his room for the rest of the evening, and you seem restless and bored hauled up in here. Join the others and get your mind on something else," Thomas argues.

Kurt resigns, and with a last worried look on Blaine's still body, he follows after Thomas.

"Are there anything I can do for him?" he asks, finally fed up with worrying and wondering.

"Blaine? No, he just needs to rest, he'll be fine," Thomas reassures him with a soft expression. "I understand it's weird for you, but you don't need to think about it. He's far gone and probably doesn't even notice you're in the room with him."

"Did you… Is he drugged?"

"No, his brain is just really tired and wants to sleep. Matthew spoke with him earlier, and Blaine wanted to make sure you don't feel exiled. I believe his exact words were 'it's your room too, dummy'," Thomas winks.

"That Anderson is a true gentleman," Kurt snorts through his blush.

Thomas hums an agreement.

"But don't forget it, OK? It will only hurt Blaine if he finds out he makes you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Kurt insists. "I'm just worried, and uncertain what I can do for him."

"You don't have to do anything, Kurt, that's our job."

"Yeah, I know, but…"

"I get it, Kurt, I do. You seem to get along well, so just continue whatever you've been doing so far, it seems to work."

Kurt just nods, and steps into the common's room.

"Hey Kurt!" Jenny shouts, and she seems really glad to see him. "We're about to begin a round of Scrabble, do you want to join us?"

"Sure," he smiles, and skips over to Jenny and Sandy.

Scrabble seems to be the it-game in this ward, and he can't count how many times they've played it during his two weeks here. But it's fun, so he doesn't mind. Jenny hands him seven letters and a platform to rest them on.

"Jenny?"

"Yeah?" She looks up from her game pieces, and smiles at him.

"Thank you for helping out on Friday, for getting Thomas. I… I couldn't do anything myself."

Jenny's smile turns sad.

"I wish I could have done more," she sighs. "I can't believe that guy… But let's not talk about him, huh, I want a pleasant evening," she says, and lays down her first word. _SCUM_.

Kurt stays in the common's room until long after supper. A bunch of them are watching reruns of _Cupcake Wars_, and Kurt thinks it's actually quite nice to spend some time with people and get out of the room he's been hauled up in the whole weekend.

Back in their room, Blaine still looks as if he hasn't moved the last hours. Kurt can't help but sigh worriedly, as he heads for the bathroom to get ready for bed. Kurt keeps looking at Blaine from his bed for several long minutes, before he closes his eyes and allows himself to enter Dreamland.

* * *

A sharp light irritates Kurt's eyes. He groans as he looks through squinted eyes to find out what's going on. The bathroom door is ajar, and Blaine's bed is empty. Disturbingly noises from the bath get Kurt out of bed without being awake and completely aware of his actions.

He finds Blaine crouched by the porcelain bowl, emptying his stomach. Wordlessly he soaks a wash cloth in lukewarm water, and kneels down by the slumped body. Blaine spits once more, arms resting around the toilet ring. Kurt carefully nudges him by the shoulder to make him look up. He gently wipes the wet cloth over Blaine's pale and sweaty face, cupping his cheek with the other hand. His eyes are big and distant, but just from Kurt's easy ministrations some life is brought back to his dark eyes. A blush paints over Blaine's cheek bones, and he looks embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, realizing he must have overstepped. "I took care of my dad when he was sick, so I just acted without thinking. I'm sorry." He lets go of Blaine, and the cloth lands on the floor.

Blaine smiles shyly, looking at Kurt through his eyelashes.

"I'm sorry I woke you up. I didn't have time to close the door…"

Kurt chooses to ignore Blaine's comment instead of argue with him about how he honestly shouldn't need to feel sorry about being sick.

"Have you gotten it all out, or do you need to go again?" he asks instead.

Blaine shakes his head.

"I haven't eaten anything today, so I should be fine."

Kurt gets up to the sink, removes the tooth brush, and fills the plastic glass with cold water.

"Rinse," he encourages.

Blaine gargles exaggeratedly before spitting out in the toilet, making Kurt chuckle.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Nah, I'll just go back to bed, I think. But thank you for asking. And helping. I really appreciate it," he says sincerely.

They climb back in their beds. Kurt is wide awake, staring at the ceiling. His mind is empty, but his body won't sleep. Maybe he's slept too much today already. He checks his phone, it's almost 5 AM.

"Can't you sleep either?" Blaine softly asks.

"Doesn't look like it," Kurt shrugs.

He's used to not getting a lot of sleep. Some nights he hardly sleeps at all. His nightmares keep him awake. That's the best nightmares. It's worse when they keep molesting his mind, keeping him trapped in his sleep. He hasn't had any nightmares lately, though, that's always worth something.

"Do you want to continue with our 20 questions?"

"Sure."

Kurt doesn't remember how many questions they got to last time, and even if they have reached the 20-mark it doesn't matter. It'll be interesting to get to know the boy better, no matter what.

"If we sit together we won't risk disturbing anyone," Blaine suggests.

"Seems wise," Kurt agrees, and joins Blaine in his bed. They sit cross legged face towards the other, and Blaine's covers draped over their legs.

"You can go first," Blaine offers, and Kurt thinks for a moment.

"How many boyfriends have you had?"

"That was an easy one," Blaine chuckles. "The answer would be none. I've had crushes, and went on a couple of dates, but nothing that lead to anything. And you?"

Kurt snorts.

"Before I met you, I didn't even know any other _out_ gay teenager," he says, emphasizing the out-bit, because Karofsky doesn't count in this picture.

"Have you tried to end it before?" Blaine asks, gesturing to Kurt's almost healed wrists.

Oh, okey, so they're not avoiding the heavy topics tonight.

Kurt shakes his head.

"Do you think you'll try again?"

"I don't have a crystal ball, Blaine," Kurt smirks. "Right now I don't have the need. But being here really doesn't count, it isn't the real world."

"I know," Blaine says solemnly. "Being here is like running away to hide."

Kurt really wants to know what Blaine means by that, but is afraid of crossing a line. On the other hand, it can't be more personal than Blaine's last question?

"You don't have to answer, Blaine, but I've been wondering… Why are you here?"

Blaine studies his lap for a long time, and Kurt prepares a new question. Eventually Blaine meets Kurt's searching eyes.

"I'll tell you," he whispers softly. "Do you want the Latin fancy-schmancy names on my diagnoses, or an English summary of what's wrong with me?"

"Tell me what you want, how you want it. And there's nothing _wrong_ with you."

Kurt takes Blaine's hand to emphasize his last point. Blaine laughs humourlessly.

"You don't know me."

"You're no complete stranger either," Kurt parries quickly.

Blaine switches so he's holding Kurt's wrist, carefully avoiding the still soar scar. With his other hand, he's drawing a whimsical pattern in Kurt's palm, and his index finger is gently running up all five fingers. He repeats the motion, over and over.

"I have four diagnoses that cooperate to make my struggles even more complicated," he begins. His eyes are focused on his ministrations on Kurt's hand. "They are always there, lurking in the background, but popping out to play at both random and expected moments. When it gets too much for too long, I end up here to get a break from reality and be helped out of the vicious circles; reset me before a new effort to make it work."

Blaine's been talking to their joined hands the entire time, but now he lifts his head, watching Kurt intently.

"Is this too much?"

Kurt firmly shakes his head.

"I'm not scared, and I'm not going anywhere."

That seems to be the encouragement Blaine needs.

"I'm not sure which diagnosis is the most prominent or serious, because they are so entwined. It's like the chicken and the egg; I don't know what came first and lead to the other."

Kurt doesn't say anything, but lets Blaine take his time.

"I'm depressed. I have social anxiety. I have an avoidant personality disorder. And I have anger issues."

Blaine is watching Kurt with an intense gaze, as if he's expecting him to bolt out of the door.

"OK," Kurt simply says. He isn't intimidated by this, so far.

"I don't know where to begin... I'm not sure I always know how to separate them. The textbook answer is that I feel inadequate. I'm my own worst critic, and seldom think I'm good enough. I can logically see how I treat myself, but that doesn't mean I'm in a position to change it."

Kurt's throat is dry. He thinks about an earlier conversation, about Blaine's parents constantly pushing him to be better, always seeing room for improvement. Where on earth can Blaine go to feel good enough, to be valued for himself, and not seen as an unreleased hypothetical potential?

"I'm not so good with communication and evaluation, and can interpret things in the worst way possible. If… If I notice someone on the street looking at me, I will jump to the conclusion that something's wrong with me. I feel as if I am being choked, and I need an absurd amount of compliments and confirmation to counteract my own insecurities."

Kurt's heart aches for the boy. It all makes sense, and Kurt can find several examples from their interactions the last two weeks to back up Blaine's speech. He quickly puzzles pieces together in his head and discovers patterns in Blaine's behaviour.

"I have social anxiety. I expect others to critique me, so obviously I avoid settings like that. I'm always worried about what other people will think of me, and I spend so much energy and time on preparations, trying to find out how I can counteract their negative opinions about me. I've been pretty good at reading people," Blaine shrugs. "And as we talked about yesterday, I've become a good actor, putting on the necessary masks. But just because I play the part, doesn't mean I get rid of my inner anxiety and struggles. I'm still afraid of not being good enough. I… I just want people to like me…" he sighs, and Kurt cups his cheek with his free hand. Blaine leans into the touch.

"I'm depressed, and it is like living in a roller coaster. Some days are really dark, others are nearly normal. I have mood swings, I get easily tired, some days it's impossible to laugh, some days I don't want to do a single thing, other days I'm hyperactive and all bubbly. Some days everything feels meaningless, and I just feel so utterly bared of any kind of happiness."

Kurt nods; he recognizes this all too well.

"Today was a fairly heavy day, where I could only sleep, and wasn't hungry or anything else. I just couldn't feel, couldn't breath. So I sleep, exhausted from everything going on in my head."

"I get it," Kurt whispers carefully, afraid to interrupt Blaine's monologue and make him close in on himself.

Blaine takes both of his hands and holds them firmly. He quickly smiles, but it never reaches his eyes.

"Lastly, there are the anger issues, and that must seem so contradictory for a shy, introvert boy avoiding people… But I bottle up emotions. I can wear my heart on my sleeve, but I force away and hide a lot of emotions, because I'm afraid of how people will respond to them. So instead of facing the confrontation, I tuck it away. Until I explode. I often find myself in a sort of defence position. I fear other people's opinions on me, I expect the worse, and sometimes it upsets me enough to make me boil."

Kurt hardly believes the complexity of Blaine's struggles. How does he endure it all?

"After the attack I told you about, I've developed several anxiety patterns. I'm afraid of being in crowds of people, I'm afraid of walking alone, I never go outside in the dark, I'm skittish and literally jump if someone touches me without my consent. And I'm so angry on those who did it, and angry that I still is suffer, more than two years after it happened."

Blaine is almost panting, agitated from his speeches and emotional pouring.

"Can I hold you?" he asks, thinking about the endorphins doctor Whimchester mentioned.

The other boy smiles fondly at him.

"Yes, you may. I don't know why, but my body seems to accept your touches without any problems."

Kurt smiles back at him, and quickly steps out of bed to sit behind Blaine. He leans against the headrest, and gently tugs on the boy so he can lie down in Kurt's arms against his chest.

"What do you do to counteract your challenges?"

"I took up boxing for my anger issues, suggestion from my anger management therapist. I even started a branch of Fight Club in school, but I did not tell you that," he says sternly.

Kurt snickers.

"I was on anti depressive pills right after the dance, but I try to stay clean now. I go to a boarding school so that I have to interact with other people, also after classes. The problem is the lack of incentives to leave school grounds and meet the rest of the world. I try, but it's so easy to postpone… I have gotten different mental and practical tools from doctor Whimchester to deal with difficult days. He believes this is mostly a long lasting healing process, so with patience and the right surroundings I'll be better. And I am better now than two years ago, but I still relapse."

Kurt holds the boy tight to his chest, not knowing what else he can do. Blaine pushes his head further back on Kurt's shoulder, and kisses him tight lipped on his jaw bone, right under the ear.

"Thank you for listening, and not ridiculing me," he whispers, voice trembling.

"You're not alone," he murmurs in Blaine's hair.

* * *

**Translation:**

_Perdono, papa, io sono colui che sono_ – I'm sorry, dad, I am who I am.


	26. This Is Over

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

"It's nice to see you out of bed, Blaine," doctor Whimchester smiles sincerely.

Blaine shrugs, shakes his head, and picks on some lint on the couch.

"I'm sorry about that. I just couldn't…"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Blaine. Some times are like that, and you do what you need. I'm impressed you managed to get up after only one day. You're in control of yourself – good for you."

Blaine nods, although he can't agree to the doctor's sentiment.

"How has your weekend been? We haven't seen each other for a couple of days now."

He thinks for a while before answering, quickly going through the highlights – both good and bad – from the last days, deciding if something's worth mentioning.

"It was OK. Kurt is a polite and nice roommate; it almost felt like being back in school."

Except Blaine never kisses his roommate at school, Blaine inwardly cheers, a small smile forcing its way to his lips.

"You stood up to Seth during breakfast on Friday. That was brave of you."

Blaine stares out of the window, watching as the snow drizzles and covers the ground with a white sprinkle.

"I'd hardly see it as something brave."

"Blaine, it seems almost against your nature to stand up for yourself and Kurt the way you did. I know Seth must have scared you."

"It was probably just the anger issues talking," Blaine shrugs.

"It may have been what fuelled you, but still you chose to deal with it. I'm not saying I'm condoning getting physical with anybody, but given your past behavioural patterns you did very well."

"You confronted Jenny with her issues too, when she speculated in Kurt's and your sexuality the other day," Matthew reminds him.

"Why, do you think, are you so brave and outgoing in those situations? It's not the shy, elusive boy staying away from confrontations and wanting to please everybody that we usually see in you."

"I don't know," Blaine says, not wanting to think about the potential answers. He worries his anger issues are out of control again.

"Does it hit an extra sore spot, when they verbally attack you or Kurt like that?"

Blaine looks abruptly up, interrupting his scrutiny of a lose thread on his pants.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to go into fight instead of flight modus when someone attacks your sexuality."

"I've always run away…"

Flashes from the dance flies in front of his eyes. His nose is filled with the smells of rain, sweat, blood, beer, raspberry punch, and cigarettes. He can hear the maniac laughter, he can hear Toby's cries of pain, he can hear boots hitting soft flesh, he can hear the flicker of a pocket knife being ejected, and he can hear the loud thumps of a strong bass line in the background. He sees darkness.

"Blaine? Blaine, buddy, come on, stay with us."

Two hands land on his shoulders, and Blaine jumps away.

"OK, OK, calm down, it's Matthew, breath, Blaine, remember to breath."

Blaine opens his eyes again, and he's back in the old couch with doctor Whimchester and Matthew.

"Flashbacks," he explains, unnecessarily.

All three of them are silent for a while, waiting for Blaine to catch his breathe back.

"I think there's a connection between your past attack and your current ability to fight back," the doctor says eventually."

He lets Blaine absorb the thought before he continues.

"This is you seeking redemption, especially when someone threatens someone you care a lot for."

"Is that… Is that a bad thing?" Blaine shakily asks, worried he'll have to go back to anger management therapy.

"As long as you don't become all Batman on us, I see it as a sign of health. You're getting stronger, you stand up for yourself, and you're emotionally opening up enough to allow yourself to care for someone else. You dare to be in a vulnerable position. That takes courage, Blaine."

"So… You think I'm moving on?"

The doctor nods his confirmation.

"I think you'll experience setbacks, and you know you've had a bumpy ride so far. That isn't over. But I think your recovery speed is increasing, and you've made some important leaps forward while being here. I think it's about time we talk about your discharge."

"M-my discharge?"

"Yes, you seem ready for a new stage. I'd like to suggest – if it's practically possible – you go back to your family tomorrow, stay there a couple of days, and go back to school on Monday."

"Are you sure I'm ready? I just had flashbacks, and I couldn't get out of bed all of yesterday."

"The flashbacks came when I provoked them, and the memories of what happened will always bee a part of you. But you're learning to deal with it. So you spent yesterday in bed to recharge and give yourself a time out. You do that in school too. I think you're ready, Blaine."

Blaine's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. This was sudden. Although it shouldn't be a surprise, seeing as his departures always are sudden. You reach the peak where you're considered well enough to leave; you leave, and continue the battle on old grounds.

Going back home now could be good. He'd be back in school in time for his exams, so he could be done with them and not having to deal with special arrangements for him in January instead. There aren't any finale exams now, so even though he isn't prepared as good as he'd like to be, it won't look bad on his graduation transcripts.

Honestly, Blaine did feel better, much better than the last time he returned to school. He misses his friends, and he knows he'd be kind of itchy to get back if he didn't have Kurt here.

_Kurt._

He may have only one more day left with Kurt.

"Is this something my father told you to do?"

The doctor looks confused, so Blaine gives him a recap of the phone conversation.

"Ah, no, Blaine, your father has no saying in your treatment and therapy. I don't care what his name is and how much money he's got. We're suggesting this because we see you're ready for it. It's been coming for a couple of days, and you keep proving how well your recovery is going."

Blaine nods to show he listens and understands.

"Do you have any objections?"

Blaine wants to scream _YES_, because he really doesn't want to let Kurt out of his life. But he knows it isn't a valid argument, so he shakes his head.

"Do you want to contact your parents and school to organize the practicalities, or do you want me to do it?"

Blaine shakes his head.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd do it," he smiles politely.

"OK then, Matthew will get back to you with details, but we aim for a departure tomorrow as early as possible."

* * *

When Kurt enters their room after group therapy, Blaine is sprawled on top of the covers in bed. Seth had left that morning, but the cleaning staff hasn't been here yet, so Kurt chose to still treat Blaine's room as _their_ room.

Kurt can't put his finger on it, but something's wrong. An off vibe is radiating from Blaine. He hesitantly approaches his bed. A shakily hand runs down Blaine's back, and the boy immediately turns over on his side, facing Kurt. He looks so pale, but not in a sick way. His eyes are darting, not focusing on anything, and he keeps chewing on his bottom lip.

Kurt lowers himself to sit on Blaine's bedside. His left arm is resting nonchalantly between them, palm up, for Blaine to take if he needs. His other arm is curled around his own waist, dreading what can be wrong.

"I'm leaving," Blaine whispers, and it shocks and freezes Kurt more than any multiple slushie attack has ever done before. He can't speak – how can he find any response when he can hardly breath?

The only thing he can think of doing, is lie down next to the other boy, who looks so young and defenceless.

So he does exactly that, pulling Blaine flush to his chest. They cling to each other, arms pulling the other as close as possible. Tears trickle down Kurt's face, or maybe they belong to Blaine, he doesn't know, their faces are too close to separate, but he's fighting off sobs.

"What scares you the most?"

Kurt doesn't bother asking whether Blaine is scared or not; that much is obvious. The thought of going back to school petrifies Kurt, at least.

"Being lonely; having to fight this alone."

Blaine is almost crawling on his knees on the mattress to get even closer to Kurt, as if he can get under his skin.

"You're not alone, Blaine. Remember the amazing friends you told me about? I believe you called yourself The Fabulous Five. What happened to them?"

Blaine swallows, twice, and pushes slightly away from Kurt, feeling stiff in his arms.

"I've just gotten really used to having you. I'll miss you…"

Blaine seems embarrassed from his admission, and is shrinking in on himself.

"Oh Blaine, I'll miss you too, he says, allowing himself to card his fingers through Blaine's curls. "But I'm only a text away."

"It's not the same," Blaine mutters, and it makes him seem so young.

"I know. But it's something." Kurt can't allow himself to feel now. He has to help Blaine to move on, regardless of his own needs and opinions.

"Will you…Will you stay here, in my arms, for a while? I need to… I want to remember how it feels, so I can imagine it when I'm back in school."

Kurt can't help but smile, although sadly.

"Are you telling me nobody in your school is sane enough to provide you with some well needed cuddling?"

The comment makes Blaine laugh, although a bit choked up.

"Nobody can quite measure up to you," he smiles bashfully, looking at Kurt through his eyelashes.

"I guess we better stock up your cuddle storage for the rainy days, then," Kurt teases Blaine, and pulls him closer.

Blaine isn't the only one who's going to miss someone. Kurt doesn't feel quite done with Blaine yet. There's more of him he wants. Blaine is already simmering in Kurt's veins, and he's afraid of being dehydrated.

"May I kiss you?" he whispers breathlessly, not wanting to just take on their last day together. At least he's able to admit to himself that he wants to kiss Blaine for the sake of kissing; not because either of them may need the distraction.

Blaine doesn't say anything, but closes the last inches of distance between their faces, and gently places his soft and warm lips onto Kurt's. Kurt gasps in surprise, and their lips slot together perfectly. He grabs the front of Blaine's shirt, yanking him more on top of him, and lets the other boy be the chauffeur of this joyride. Blaine is gently cupping his cheek with one hand, the other sneaking around Kurt's waistline and hip, wondering where it can settle down. Kurt hums his contentment into Blaine's tender kiss, and runs his hands down Blaine's chest and back to his shoulder blades. He holds him, firm enough to show he wants this, but loose enough so that Blaine can move and step away if he wants to.

"Nobody cuddles like this in school," Blaine whispers, voice filled with awe. He leans back a couple of inches and watches Kurt with wonder.

"That's their loss," Kurt mutters, chasing after Blaine's delicious lips again.

The other boy grins and plops an elbow on the mattress. Kurt can feel his smile against his own lips, before Blaine starts moving, drizzling tiny kisses along Kurt's jaw, until he reaches his earlobe and nibbles it.

"I'm so glad I met you," he whispers in Kurt's ear, his breath tickling in all the best ways.

Kurt has to close his eyes, forcing his breathing to calm down as Blaine runs his lips down his neck and up again. Blaine then kisses his closed eyelids, lets their noses Eskimo kiss, before finding Kurt's lips again. Blaine is really good at what he does. Kurt's toes curl, and he moans into the kiss.

"Oh my God," he groans embarrassed, blushing ferociously.

Blaine smiles against his lips, and drops a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I like kissing you," he mumbles, nuzzling the crook between Kurt's neck and shoulder. "And I like that you like it too."

_You are simply perfection_, Kurt thinks, and flips the other boy onto his back, straddles his hips, and attacks his mouth. Blaine inhales sharply, and Kurt slips his tongue in, playing with him. He uses the tip of his tongue to tease the roof of Blaine's mouth, making the other boy whimper and squirm under him. Two strong arms envelopes his chest, pulling him closer, and Kurt has to plant his hands on the mattress on two sides of Blaine's head to maintain some balance.

The boys have just pulled apart to catch their breath again, and are sitting with some distance when Thomas comes by to remind them about lunch. Kurt doesn't miss how his contact person winks at him when he closes the door, though. Neither boy dares leave the room before they've fixed themselves up in front of a mirror.

* * *

"Do you think you'd join us for physical exercise today?" Blaine asks with his back to Kurt. He's begun to pack his brimmed drawer of books. After doctor Whimchester and Matthew had organized Blaine's journey back home, they found out there was no point in making Kurt change back to his old room for a night, when he could just stay after Blaine had left as well.

"Why would I want to do that? I've told you why I don't seek out gyms and locker rooms."

Blaine turns around, hands filled with pocket books. His eyes have that scared shine in them, similar to when Kurt found him in bed earlier.

"Because I'd like to spend as much time as possible with you on our last day together."

Oh then. What do you say to such a request, really?

Wordlessly Kurt finds a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie that wasn't in the bag with laundry that Tina and Mercedes brought back home, and slips into the bathroom to quickly change.

"I must be crazy," he mutters to himself in front of the mirror as he adjusts his hair.

"Thank you!" Blaine murmurs with such heartfelt sincerity it makes Kurt's heart ache. He leaves him with a kiss that makes Kurt's lips tingle, and jumps into the bathroom to change clothes as well.

"Or maybe it's worth it…" Kurt mumbles to himself.

Blaine takes Kurt's hand in the elevator, and Kurt wonders if Blaine can feel the quick pulse from his rapid heart beats. It feels as if the blood is galloping through his veins. Yosef has a therapy session with the doctor, so it's only Blaine and the girls, including Melinda. Kurt tries to think about this as something else than gym, tries to fade away the pictures of jocks in front of his eyes. This is something harmless, this is something that used to be fun.

"You seem far away. What are you thinking about?" Blaine murmurs in his ear as they leave the elevator.

"Cheerios," Kurt whispers back.

"Are you hungry? We just had lunch…" Blaine seems confused.

"No, that's what the cheerleaders in my school are called."

Blaine still looks confused.

"I didn't ogle them, I competed with them," Kurt explains.

"You. Were. A. Cheerleader?" Blaine exclaims eagerly, and loud enough for the other girls to hear him. Kurt turns crimson.

"For a semester or so, yes. Sophomore year. That's history. But it was fun." Kurt knows he's rambling.

"Kurt, you have to play with us, we're cheerleaders too!" Sandy exclaims excitedly, pointing at her and Jenny.

"Me too…" Izabelle mumbles, and everybody stares at her. She gives them a "what?"-gesture with her hands.

Kurt looks around in the room. It's not an ordinary gym, it's basically a room in the basement with a proper floor and equipment for some exercise.

"It's not tall enough under the roof to do much. Besides, I was mostly singing."

"Are you sure you don't know any moves, Kuuurt?" she says teasingly, and steps out to the middle of the floor, beckoning Izabelle and Sandy to join here.

"_Brrr, it's cold in here, it must be some Clovers in the atmosphere!_"

Kurt can't help but laugh and tap the rhythm with his foot. Blaine is standing close to him, watching Kurt with amusement, and hardly gives the girls any attention.

"I can see your feet twitching, come on, Kurt!" Jenny pleads, and Melinda the sly vixen has found the music, grinning at them.

"You're not going to let this be, are you?"

The girls grin wickedly at him.

"Oh all right, then, but it's been years since I did the routine, so I'm warning you – keep your distance or have your shins kicked." He stands as far behind as possible, letting Jenny take lead.

Melinda stops the music, and they begin from the top again. It's uncoordinated and jerky, as they've never danced together before. But it's fun. Blaine's eyes are glued on Kurt, and he can't help but put in some extra pop in his movements, and winks at Blaine. The boy doesn't look so sad and scared, and Kurt makes it his mission to entertain and distract the boy until he leaves.

The girls jump and squeal from excitement when the number is done, and Kurt rushes away from them to avoid being dragged into one more routine.

"Damn, Kurt, I don't know whether I should encourage you to go back to your Glee club or to the Cheerios?"

"Maybe you need something to compare it with?" Kurt growls in Blaine's ear, letting the adrenaline from the cheerleading rush him into recklessness.

Blaine doesn't say anything, with mouth and eyes wide open.

Kurt saunters off to Melinda to check out her music, but he feels confident he'll find what he's looking for. If she had the soundtrack from _Bring it on_, she should have epic hits there too. He then pulls Jenny and Sandy away, whispers to them if they know this song. They giggle, of course they know it.

"_All the single ladies, all the single ladies, all the single ladies, all the single ladies_" fills the room, and Kurt and his new girls do their moves. Kurt doesn't dare watching Blaine, and truthfully he isn't worried about how the boy will react. He's confident he won't ridicule him, so Kurt puts his heart in the performance with one goal – to get that sad face off of Blaine. It's their last day together, and he doesn't want Blaine to be sad and gloomy.

Kurt realizes he's a bit embarrassed and anxious when the song is over, anyway, so he stays with the girls instead of seeking out Blaine. Blaine solves that issue for him, though, and approaches him.

"I must say, your Glee club seems to be quite different from the one I hang out with," he says softly, low enough for the girls not to hear him.

"OK guys, the dancing was fun, but we won't stop with that. Split up in two teams, we're playing butt soccer."

Melinda explains the rules as she pulls out two goal nets and a light ball. They have to sit on the floor, and move on their hands and feet, but cannot touch the ball with their hands. They are also warned against accidentally kicking each other. She then separates them into teams, as nobody took any initiative to do it. Kurt, Jenny and Sarah are on one team, and Blaine, Sandy and Izabelle on the other.

Sarah and Izabelle meet on the middle, and Melinda drops the ball. Sarah squeals and ducks when the ball lands, so Izabelle surges forward to get the ball. She clutches it between her knees, and crawls like a crab across the floor towards the opposing team's half. When Izabelle drops the ball to hopefully guide it to the net, Jenny steals the ball and rushes across to the other goal. She's surprisingly fast, and nobody guards the net when she arrives. Unfortunately she misses, and Blaine catches the ball bouncing back with his feet, and drags himself backwards with his arms, laughing. Closer to the goal he spins around on his butt, expecting to simply flip the ball in the net, but he hadn't seen Kurt waiting.

"Not so fast there, Neo," he smirks, and boldly steals the ball from his feet.

Kurt then leans back to rest on his shoulder blades, lifts his pelvis, flips the ball in the air and kicks it across the room, to Jenny who is still by the goal net and calmly escorts the ball home.

Kurt sits up on the floor, crossing his feet and accepting the high five from his team mates.

"Well played, nice strategy," Blaine smiles widely, bumping his shoulder with his own and mirroring Kurt's position.

"I played football for a semester in school, sophomore year."

Blaine looks approvingly at him.

"Must have been a busy year."

Kurt shrugs.

"I was just the kicker, but I won them the only game they nailed that year," he says, feeling a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

"Why do I get the feeling that you'll still surprise me ten years down the road?"

"OK guys, grab one of those big yoga balls, and we'll finish up with some stretching and easy balance exercises," Melinda interrupts.

Kurt takes a purple ball, Blaine a light pink one.

It turns out, Blaine's balance is almost non-existing.

"I haven't been dancing and cheerleading for several years," he mutters, faux jealous in Kurt's direction.

Kurt rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, but takes pity in the boy.

"Will it be easier if I hold your hands to anchor you?"

"Yes," Blaine answers immediately. "Yes, it will."

"How can you know that even before we've tried?"

"Umm. I have a very vivid imagination?"

Kurt snorts, but takes Blaine's hands.

"Now try to centre your torso, so you can find your balance even if you lift your feet."

Blaine wiggles around on top of the ball, never reaching the point where he can even consider moving his feet from the ground.

"The problem," Kurt begins to explain, "is that you are moving too much. You're treating the ball like some kind of an old, rusty car stick which needs a lot of violent jerking to slip into the next gear. While here you need small and slow movements to find your pose."

Blaine rolls on the yoga ball with almost unperceivable movements, looking for that spot where he can relax. Kurt is holding his hands in a slack grip, so he isn't straining the movement or moving the balance.

"I think I got it!" Blaine exclaims enthusiastically, and lifts his legs on two sides of Kurt.

"Good, now you can let go of me," Kurt coos, and is about to move when he notices the gleam in Blaine's eyes. The boy holds firmly to Kurt's hands, and in a quick movement he leans backwards, loses balance, and yanks Kurt with him as he falls to the floor. Kurt lands on top of him with a loud "umph"-noise.

"You did that on purpose!" Kurt scolds.

"Prove it," Blaine teases.

Melinda claps her hands.

"We need to clean up the equipment and get back up, guys."

Kurt rolls the big ball into the storage room, and wonders why Blaine is skipping over to Melinda with his. The girls file out of the room towards the elevator. Kurt is about to follow them, but Blaine tugs at his sleeve.

"I have something I wanted to show you. Melinda will come back and pick us up in fifteen minutes."

"I'm intrigued; do tell," Kurt beams, curiosity peaked.

Blaine steps over to the piano, opens the lid and sits down on the stool.

"There are some things I need you to hear, and sometimes it's easier to do it with a song."

Blaine begins an all too familiar intro, and Kurt can't believe this song, _this song_, will be sung to him. He steps closer, and leans against the piano, looking straight at Blaine.

"_I've heard it said That people come into our lives for a reason, Bringing something we must learn. And we are led To those who help us most to grow If we let them, And we help them in return. Well, I don't know if I believe that's true, But I know I'm who I am today Because I knew you..._"

Tears are streaming down Kurt's face, but he ploughs on to take Elphaba's verse.

"_It well may be That we will never meet again In this lifetime. So let me say before we part, So much of me Is made from what I learned from you. You'll be with me Like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end I know you have re-written mine, By being my friend..._"

They sing together.

"_Who can say if I've been Changed for the better? I do believe I have been Changed for the better. Because I knew you... I have been changed for good..._"

The last notes die out, and it's silent for a long moment, until Blaine turns around on the piano stool.

"I let out that first part, because I honestly don't see any of us as limited," he says, taking Kurt's hand in his. "But I wanted to express how much these two weeks with you have meant to me. I… I can't believe it's only been two weeks, it feels as if I've known you for so much longer."

"I meant what I sang too. You've made me a better person. You've made me see I can be strong some day, you've helped me become stronger, you've showed me the light in the end of the tunnel."

"I'm glad," Blaine says and gets up from the stool. He wipes away the tears from Kurt's eyes.

"I have been changed for good. I can never forget you. I'm so glad faith brought me you."

Kurt steps closer, leaning his forehead on Blaine's chest, over his heart. Blaine wraps his arms around him. They stay closely embraced until Melinda comes back for them.

* * *

Their room seems naked and cold. Blaine's packed all of his things, except toiletries and a change of clothes for tomorrow. His computer, books, pictures and knick-knacks are gone.

"Come on, you have a song to finish. I told you I couldn't leave until you'd learned it."

Blaine plops down in bed next to Kurt, and hands him his guitar.

"I don't know if I want to learn it…"

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't learn it either. But that's not how it works."

With some guidance and mild correction, Kurt plays and sings through the entire of _Let it be_.

Later that evening the boys get ready for bed. It's an unspoken agreement that they share the bed this last night. Blaine is tucked in Kurt's arm, with his head resting over Kurt's heart.

"You'll do fine," Kurt sooths him.

"You too," Blaine whispers.

* * *

"So, this is it," Kurt says softly, but there's a strained edge to his voice.

Blaine had bid his goodbyes to the others after breakfast. Now he's finished packing his belongings, standing in the doorway to the room they've shared for almost a week.

Kurt's trying to drown any kind of emotion. He doesn't want this to be a sad goodbye. Blaine is just a boy, just an acquaintance, nothing to get worked up about; it's not as if he'll have any problems leaving Izabelle or Thomas.

Kurt takes a chance looking at Blaine, and is surprised to see the determination on the boy's face.

"I was hoping it wasn't," he says gently, giving a half smile. "I was hoping we could stay in touch, and get to know each other even better. When you're out of here I was hoping we could meet again." Blaine stops for a moment, swallows, blinks, but finds Kurt's eyes again. "You're so special, and intriguing, you fascinate me in all the best ways, and I really like the Kurt Hummel I've gotten to know so far. I… I'd like to take you out on a date, some day."

Oh… Kurt has to swallow several times, trying to make his dry mouth cooperate. This isn't what he expected. At all.

Blaine is chewing on his lower lip, and a nice maroon colour is painted across his face. His gaze doesn't waver, though, but stays put on Kurt.

"Blaine, I… I'm really not interested in dating or pursuing a relationship or anything like that now. I'm too… I just can't, OK?" he asks softly, not wanting to insult the boy.

"I understand," Blaine says softly, sadness masking his face.

"But I'd like for us to stay in touch and be friends," Kurt adds, clutching at his own hands, lacing his fingers, and trying to tame his insecurity before he ends up kicking his own feet.

Blaine takes two steps closer to Kurt, and folds his arms around his shoulders. Kurt hurries to wrap his arms around Blaine's waist, and they melt together in the embrace.

"I'll never say goodbye to you," Blaine whispers.

They hug until someone coughs discreetly behind them. Blaine sighs.

"My cab is here. I have to go; I have a plane to catch. I'll text you, you won't get rid of me that easily," he smiles, but it never reaches his eyes.

"Give my regards to the real world from me," Kurt chuckles, trying to ease the moment, the not-goodbye.

Blaine unwraps his arms and lifts his head from Kurt's shoulder. He leans in, and Kurt automatically closes his eyes a nanosecond before he feels the soft, warm, and gentle touch against his own lips. The tender caress is bittersweet. It tastes of farewell, it tastes of longing, it tastes of more offered.

Blaine grabs the handles of his two suitcases, and walks down the corridor. He never turns around, never waves, never looks back. As if he's just going out to get their daily coffee.

Kurt doesn't move until he can't see Blaine anymore. Then he turns slowly around and walks into the room they've spent so much time in the last weeks. He should be glad to get some privacy back and the room shouldn't feel so empty. But neither is the case. He throws himself on Blaine's bed, needing to inhale his scent one more time, needing to feel his body relax from the sensation of Blaine around him. Something is making the bed feel uncomfortable, though, and Kurt kicks off the cover to see what the lump in the mattress is.

The first thing he notices is a book. Blaine must have forgotten it. An emerald green velvet pouch peaks his curiosity, but he reaches for an envelope with his name on as soon as he spots it. He carefully opens it, and inside is a note.

_Dearest Kurt!_

_I have to write this quickly, while you're in the shower. There's a song that's been looping in my mind the last hours. I want you to read these lyrics, and think carefully about them. They go for the both of us. I'm going to use this song as my anthem, and I hope you'll let the song help you too. I'm sure you know the song, but please, really think about the lyrics._

_Feeling broken  
__Barely holding on  
__But there's just something so strong  
__Somewhere inside me.  
__And I am down, but I'll get up again.  
__Don't count me out just yet_

_I've been brought down to my knees  
__And I've been pushed  
__Way past the point of breaking,  
__But I can take it.  
__I'll be back -  
__Back on my feet  
__This is far from over  
__You haven't seen the last of me._

_Never forget how strong you are. Never forget the spark of fight I see in you. Never forget how brave you are. Never forget how far you've come. _

_And never forget that you have me to help you back on your feet; someone trying to navigate a similar boat in the same ocean._

_Blaine_

_P.S. I've enclosed something for your severe addiction, but you have to be brave and pick it up yourself._

Encouraged by Blaine's last words, he shakes the envelope to empty it. Out fall three loyalty cards from three different coffee shops. They're all filled with stamps, except for the last square giving claim to a free coffee. Blaine's been saving up his bonus cups, and left them to Kurt to spend on a particularly rough day. A lone tear slowly falls down his left cheek, and he places the coupons safely between the cover and first page of the book Blaine left. It's the next book Kurt would read in the Discworld series, _Equal Rites_, and Blaine has left a few words to him.

_...It is well know that a vital ingredient of success is not knowing that what you're attempting can't be done. (Page 132)_

_Buon Viaggio Della Vita!_

_Blaine_

Lastly, Kurt opens the velvet pouch. It's tiny and light, and he shakes out its content. Seven plastic squares fall out on bed, and Kurt immediately recognizes them as pieces from Scrabble. He alphabetizes them.

_ACEGORU_

Tears are blinding him, and he cries himself to sleep with Blaine's book in his arms.

* * *

Kurt sleeps until dinner, when Margaret wakes him up. He hasn't got any appetite, and just pokes in the food with his fork. He excuses himself, and goes back to their, no, his room. He lies down in Blaine's bed again, sniffing his pillow and reads the book he left for him.

He's pulled out from the fantasy world when his phone alerts him of a new text. He quickly opens the key lock, and his breath chokes when he sees who it's from.

_Hey, how's your day been? I've just finished unpacking, trying to get used to this room again. Blaine_

_Long. Weird. Silent. Lonely. You are strangely addictive; the ward isn't the same without you. I miss you so it hurts._

Kurt deletes the text, and types a new answer.

_It's a day. I've read a few chapters of my new book – love it! How was your flight? And where did it take you? Kurt_

_Flight as usual. It's great to be back in LA, I've missed it. I might go swimming this weekend, the weather forecast is predicting heat records. Trying to bug my brother into joining me _

Kurt's heart drops to his toes. Of course Blaine has to live in freaking Los Angeles, the other end of the States. It might as well be the other end of the world. Why does he have to live so far away? Well, that settles it. Kurt did the right thing, it would be impossible to pursue anything with someone living in California. He can't even imagine them being able to stay friendly with all of those miles separating them.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Wicked – _For Good_

Cher – _You Haven't Seen The Last of Me_


	27. Californication

**I'm so, so sorry for the delay, but my computer broke down completely, and it took me some time to get a new one, restore my back up's, install all my programs and get back to writing. But finally I'm here with a new chapter for you, that I've been writing on all kinds of post it's and other tiny notes in the meantime, as writing inspiration struck even though my computer passed away, may it rest in pieces.**

**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews I got for my last chapter, and thank you to everybody reading and favouriting this. I can't believe all the attention I get, and I'm humbled that you still read. English is not my native language, so I appreciate your patience!**

**And a big thank you to _TheMuse19_ for recommending my story in her AN - it means a lot, coming from someone writing such a wonderful story as she does.**

**_Claudiavonberckefeldt_ gave me my review number 100, and got a wish as her thank you. She wanted some more Italian something-something in the story, and luckily for her I already had that planned and written out, so I hope this will please you!**

**I'm really nervous about this chapter, but several of you expressed a wish to meet Blaine's family, even though I hadn't planned on that, so here goes nothing! Especially thank you to _Flobouille93_ and _NurseKate_ for giving me support and encouragement to do this!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or any pop hits.**

* * *

The contrast between the gray, wet and cold Ohio is more than noticeable to Blaine, as he steps out of LAX. The sun is shining and warming his skin, and he thinks he can even smell the salt ocean. He inhales deeply, perches the pink sunglasses on his nose, and smiles. It's great to be back!

"Squirt!"

A tall man engulfs Blaine in something between a wrestle grip and a loving hug, making him drop his suitcases to the ground. He manages to maintain his firm grip on the guitar slung over his shoulder, though - he won't let anything happen to his prize possession.

"You know I don't like it when you call me that," he scolds, but he can't help grinning at his older brother.

"Aww, I knew you'd be glad to see me again," Cooper beams, running his hand through Blaine's gelled hair.

"Watch the do!" Blaine objects, trying to swat away his brother's hands, but unfortunately Cooper is too tall.

"Come on," Cooper encourages, "not even stars are immune to parking tickets, and I have the engine running in the drop off only-section. Hurry up!" he commands, jogging lightly backwards in front of him, leaving it to Blaine to deal with his own luggage.

Blaine fondly shakes his head, but hurries after his brother with his guitar, messenger bag and two suitcases on wheels.

Cooper is all set in his devilish red cabriolet, and pushes the button to open the trunk as Blaine catches up with him.

"Hurry up, little man, I have some lines waiting back home I want you to help me with, I have an audition in two days."

Blaine rolls his eyes, and smiles as the action instantly makes him think about Kurt. Wonderful Kurt, who's so far away right now. Blaine sighs, deposits his stuff in the back of Cooper's car, and jumps into the passenger seat.

"Those glasses clash horrible with my ride," Cooper comments.

Blaine tucks them more firmly on his nose, watching his brother over the edge of his precious sun glasses.

"How's mama?" he asks, choosing to ignore his brother's style objection.

"She's really looking forward to see you again. You know how much she enjoys having the family gathered. Dad's on his way, and will be here by Friday, so all four of us can spend the weekend together before you're off to your prestigious fancy school."

Blaine huffs and hits his brother's shoulder.

"Be nice," he scolds, "I love that school."

"I know you do," Cooper says, and looks at his brother with love in his eyes. "I'm glad you found your safe haven. How are you, how was it to leave Bellefontaine this time?"

Blaine smiles at his brother, who is showing one of his rare caring sides.

"It was hard, it's always so difficult to adjust back to the real life. I know I have to do it, but..."

Cooper looks at him as if he knows Blaine is holding something back, but he doesn't pry.

"Well, this is going to be an awesome weekend. I mean, how often do you get to interact with a real TV-star?"

Blaine is too polite to say anything about his brother's strictly limited to commercials so far-carreer, but simply adjusts the volume on the car stereo, and lifts his hands in the air, letting the latest Katy Perry-hit and the warmer than Ohio-weather engulf him.

* * *

"Valério!"

"Mama!"

Blaine hugs his mother warmly, but carefully. He'd almost forgotten how tiny and slender she is, even though she looks good and healthy now compared to the last time he saw her.

Alessa cups his chin, and kisses him on each cheek.

"Bambino, I'm so glad to have you home again..."

She hugs him again, and Blaine tightens his embrace around her slightly, still concerned about hurting her.

"Go get settled in your room, and I'll have an early dinner ready within an hour," she smiles warmly at him.

He kisses her cheeks, before leaving for his room. He's somewhat surprised to see that Cooper's already brought his stuff to the room. The bed looks newly made, and so, so inviting. It's been a long day, with the travelling, even though time zone differences have brought him three hours back in time. He chooses to ignore his luggage for now, and slips under the soft covers.

* * *

A warm body lies down next to Blaine, and he hums in contentment. He wraps an arm around the other's waist, and nuzzles closer. He smells different, but still familiar, and not at all unwelcome. Blaine knows he's smiling even though his head is still sleep dazzled, and he tries to speak. His brain to mouth coordination isn't at its best, though, and all he can hear from his own lips are some muffled stumbling sounds with little to no resemblance to the English language. He tries again as he hooks his ankle over the longer legs next to him.

"Who's Kurt, Squirt?"

Blaine's eyes shoot up, and he groans. Right, he's in Los Angeles now, and the warm body next to him is Cooper, not Kurt. Gross.

"Nobody," he answers and tries getting out of bed, but Cooper pins him to the bed.

"Sure doesn't seem like nobody, the way you're leeching to me," he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at his little brother.

"Coop..."

"Blaine..." he mocks back, strengthening the hold on the younger Anderson.

"Kurt's... a friend," Blaine finally admits.

"Who makes you moan his name in your sleep?" Cooper grins wickedly.

"It's not like that," Blaine hurriedly groans. "We've helped each other through some nightmares and rough times, and I kind of thought that you were him..."

"He must be really special."

Blaine narrows his eyes and studies his brother. Blaine _knows _Kurt is special, but why is Cooper stating it too?

"You don't easily make new friends, and you sure as hell don't let them in close physically before you've known them for a long time."

"Maybe Kurt is an old friend," Blaine objects stubbornly.

"Pssh, you've never ever mentioned a Kurt before, neither from here nor school. He's someone you met in Ohio, isn't he?"

Blaine sighs, but slumps down in bed again, "accidentally" landing with his elbow on Cooper's stomach.

"Hey!" Cooper objects. "Don't think violence will distract me. Kurt. Speak. Now."

"I met him at Bellefontaine. We had this instant connection and bonded over some similar experiences..."

"He's gay, isn't he?" Cooper asks softly.

Blaine simply nods.

"And he's had his fair share of people too eager to show him the straight path, too?" Cooper's voice is sad and compassionate.

Blaine snorts, but nods.

"And you're crazy about him." Cooper doesn't ask, but states it, and Blaine can't find it in himself to be annoyed.

"Yes," he sighs.

"God Blaine, I hope you're not so stupid you didn't ask him out!"

"I did," Blaine objects indignantly.

"Didn't my baby brother get his happy ending?" Cooper coos, and tucks Blaine in his arms.

"He turned me down," Blaine says shaking his head.

Cooper doesn't say anything, but pulls his brother even closer, resting his chin on the top of Blaine's head.

"You deserve happiness, you know that?" he finally asks.

Blaine nods, but he doesn't think he's convincing neither himself nor Cooper.

"Come on. Mama's made pasta, and afterwards you can help me with my lines. Maybe I'll even teach you some inside tricks," he offers cheekily.

Blaine snorts, but lets his brother pull him out of bed.

* * *

Dinner is enjoyable, although it's a bit strange to eat with only two other people, after sharing so many meals with everyone at Bellefontaine. Cooper talks their ears off about his latest auditions, and how misunderstood he is by the entire casting crew in California. Their mother is mostly silent, but she keeps throwing Blaine glances, smiling so big it makes the corners of her eyes crinkle.

"Valério, Bambino, you're getting so tiny, you have to eat," she encourages, and shoves the casserole closer to her youngest son.

"Relax, mama, he isn't exactly a growing kid anymore," Cooper interrupts, and helps himself to more food.

"And neither are you," Blaine chides, but lets his big brother help himself to however much food he likes.

"I'm a poor struggling artist," Cooper shrugs.

"And I thought you were a successful Hollywood actor," Blaine grins cheek-in-tongue.

"Rude!" Copper exclaims, flipping a piece of cucumber in Blaine's face.

"Boys," Alessa warns seriously, but she's betrayed by the happy glint in her eyes. "Valério, what do you want to do the few days you're here before you have to go back to school?"

Blaine smiles fondly at his mother. Unlike his father, she only uses his Italian name. But whenever his parents want him to really listen and are being serious, they use both of his names.

"My exams are next week, mama, so I need some time with my books to prepare. And I want to go swimming in the ocean," he grins.

"Blaine, do you realize how cold it is?" His brother looks incredulously at him, but Blaine simply grins.

"You've been in LA for too long. I'm acclimated to the Ohio weather, remember, to me it's still warm outside."

Cooper still glares at him.

"Beniamino, why don't you join Valério on the beach? You should make sure to spend some nice brotherly time alone," Alessa suggests.

"Mama!" Cooper groans. "I don't even have the right tan to be on the beach now."

"Then spend some quality time with your tanning bed in the basement, Alessa says, and that's the end of that discussion for now.

After dinner, Blaine returns to his room to unpack and sort out the laundry. He'll bring the books and other stuff with him back to school, so that stays in the suitcases. When his clothes are deposited to the washing room, he decides to text Kurt asking how he's doing. He slumps down in bed, a bed he hasn't used for several months, and the entire room feels alien and like something he's intruding on, or maybe borrowing.

_Hey, how's your day been? I've just finished unpacking, trying to get used to this room again. Blaine_

The answer comes after a couple of minutes.

_It's a day. I've read a few chapters of my new book – love it! How was your flight? And where did it take you? Kurt_

Blaine smiles at his phone. He can visualize Kurt lying in bed with his book, legs rested up against the wall as usual, because Kurt evidently likes the stretch of it. He's surprised Kurt asks about the flight, he was sure he had told where he was going, but he shrugs and answers.

_Flight as usual. It's great to be back in LA, I've missed it. I might go swimming this weekend, the weather forecast is predicting heat records. Trying to bug my brother into joining me. _

Blaine is so used to flying, he feels unfazed by it all. He feels safe and comfortable with the familiar routines, and in a big airport among strangers he gets to be whoever he wants to be. He seldom is Blaine Anderson, but absorbs the personality of an outgoing, exotic Valério Pezza. There's seldom any excitement attached to the actual travelling, although he enjoys sitting in a corner of the airport people watching. And he used to love arriving to new places he could explore and get to know. He hopes he'll get that curiousness and desire for adventures back, some day. Being back in LA really is great; he hasn't been here since summer. Blaine's convinced Kurt's a person who can appreciate the change of weather from Ohio, so he gushes about his hopefully upcoming swim.

Kurt doesn't reply immediately, so Blaine takes his seat by the desk to give the history books some attention, and eventually he forgets about the text he sent Kurt.

* * *

Blaine spends the Thursday washing his dirty clothes, and offers to vacuum and wash the floors for his mother.

"You don't have to do that, Valério," she smiles sadly, cupping his cheek.

"But I want to, mama. You shouldn't have to push yourself through it, when I'm here and can do it for you."

She kisses his forehead, before she gratefully sinks down in a big, comfy armchair. Blaine hands her the big alpaca blanket she likes to drape herself in to avoid getting cold.

The house work is done fairly quickly, and he's about to sit down on the pouf in front of his mother, when his phone starts singing _"Hey Witch doctor, give us the magic words!"_ He smiles apologetically at his mom, and retreats to his room.

"Harold, do you miss me already?" he grins cheekily.

"Of course I do, Blaine, but I still hope I won't be seeing you for a while," doctor Whimchester answers laughingly.

"Not making promises," Blaine answers solemnly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"No beating around the bush with you, then. I just call to check on you, hear how you're doing on the sunny coast."

"Fairly slow so far, I guess. I've spent the time balancing relaxation, homework and housework."

"How is your mother?"

"She's okey. She was really glad to see me again, and Coop says she looks better now that I'm here."

"You seem sad."

"Try guilty. I feel as if I should have gone back for Thanksgiving, and made an effort to get out of the ward quicker."

"What is done is done. You didn't feel ready to leave during Thanksgiving, and we are first and foremost thinking about your needs now, OK?"

Blaine nods, remembers the doctor can't see him, and mumbles an affirmative.

"So how do you feel about being out in the real world?"

Blaine snickers.

"I never do feel ready for that, do I?"

"No, you don't. Sometimes you need a push, or a good old kick in the ass, to get on."

"The flight went OK, I survived the airports. I've stayed inside with my family so far, but mama says we're going out for dinner when father comes home tomorrow. And I'm trying to think about some more things to do out of this house."

"That's good, Blaine. You were beginning to act comfortable in the ward, so it was important to give you a new arena to challenge yourself in. Yes, you got flashbacks when I provoked you, and you spent 24 hours hauled up in bed. But Blaine, you spent only 24 hours in bed. That's happened several times in school without anyone raising the red flag, and I'm confident this is for the best."

"I hear what you say, and I guess I understand the words. But it doesn't make me feel any safer or easy with it."

"And that's what you say each time you're being discharged," doctor Whimchester reminds him.

"I know..."

"Tell me about your plans for the next days."

"Well, I'm going back to school on Sunday, and I have a bunch of exams the next two weeks. I guess my friends will throw me a surprise welcome back-party as they always do, and I'll act surprised as usual," Blaine grins.

"And they'll have added some unsuspected touch to the party that ends up really surprising you anyway," the doctor laughs. "What will you do about this weekend, then?"

Blaine sighs.

"I guess I should spend time with my family, not only my books."

"And try to go outside. Soak up some sun, make us Ohioan envious, relax, get used to the real world and its rhythms and routines, and continue to challenge yourself in moderate dozes. Do something you've never done before, be a bit crazy, Blaine."

Blaine groans. He hates stepping outside of his comfort zone.

"Blaine?"

"I'll try, OK? I won't promise anything, but I'll try."

"That's all I ask of you. I'll call you back tomorrow afternoon for a finale pep talk before the weekend, OK?"

Blaine hums in agreement, and they end the conversation.

He closes his eyes, resting on the bed and thinking about the conversation. He was surprised when the doctor discharged him, but he thinks he's ready to go back to school. Spending time with his family is always nerve wrecking, he never knows what to expect. But leaving Kurt, that's the worst.

The thought of Kurt makes him smile again, so he grabs his phone to send a text to the boy.

_Hey Kurt, I hope Sarah isn't boring you senselessly. Have you had any coffee yet? Courage! Blaine_

* * *

Blaine spends the rest of the afternoon with his books. His phone is resting next to his notes, and he checks now and then to see if Kurt's responded. The boy hasn't, and it saddens Blaine. Maybe Kurt's diving into the program in the ward, maybe he's had a rough conversation with the doctor, maybe he's sleeping, maybe his phone ran out of battery. But it's been at least 18 hours since he heard from the boy last.

He sends a couple of more texts to Kurt throughout the next hours, to see if he can remind him to answer.

_I hate trigonometry. Why do we have to learn this stuff anyway?_

_Now, history I can understand, that has a useful potential. One should think people would learn from history, though, but history clearly shows few do. _

_Discworld is not on the reading list for my lit class, and it's poorer for it._

Later in the afternoon Cooper decides Blaine's been isolating himself enough in the room, and kidnaps him. They don't talk much, and Blaine lets him rant about his audition the next day, humming and nodding at the right places. They stop at a coffee house, and Cooper orders for the both of them while Blaine waits by a table. Blaine takes in the surroundings, and lowers his shoulders. The place looks decent, not too crowded, and possible to get a decent overview of. He pulls out his phone and shoots off another text.

_I think Cooper is chaperoning me to get coffee. I had a much better time when you and I went together. I hope you're OK. Courage. Blaine_

Blaine sends the text as Cooper sits down across of him.

"Who are you texting?"

"Nobody." Blaine can't stop the sad sigh that escapes him.

Cooper takes his hand, and Blaine hardly flinches.

"You miss him."

"I do..." Blaine blinks several times, trying to stop the tears that are threatening to jump.

"What is he saying?"

"Nothing. He... He doesn't answer my texts. I thought we were friends, at least, but it seems I was wrong. I'm not good enough for him. He's so..."

"He's a first class jerk, if he doesn't see all the good in you," Cooper snorts and interrupts Blaine.

"He's no jerk," Blaine replies almost angrily. "He's been hurt too, and he needs someone better than me. But I still like him," he sighs. "I wish I could just let him go..."

Cooper squeezes his hand, and smiles encouragingly at him.

"You'll be OK. I have a great plan," he grins.

Blaine's heart sinks. Cooper's plans are never great.

* * *

Someone lies down next to Blaine, and startles him. He jumps away, almost knocking into the wall next to the bed.

"Easy there, tiger, it's just me. Kurt's not here, so no groping," his brother says teasingly.

Blaine groans and blushes.

"It never was anything like that," he whines, annoyed about his brother waking him up this early.

"Sure thing, Squirt. Get up, get dressed, get ready, you're coming with me."

"What? Where, why?"

"OK, here's the deal. You can stay home and offer mama to pick up father at the airport. Or you can come with me without asking questions."

Ten minutes later, Blaine is ready to go.

They leave in Cooper's car, it's not even 6 AM, and he stops by a coffee shop to buy them caffeine and nutrition. He then takes them to the top of a hill, and by the time they get there, they are given a magnificent view of the sun rising. They're sitting crisscrossed on the car hood, silently eating their bagels and sipping at their medium drips. Cooper hadn't even warned Blaine about scratching his car with his skinny ass, so he knows this is a serious moment.

"I may not always understand you, and I know I haven't always been the most supporting brother. But I do love you, you know?"

"I... I haven't always been so sure. About that," Blaine hesitantly answers, deciding to be honest.

"I'm sorry," Cooper says sincerely, watching the sky gradually becoming more colourful as the sun slowly rises from the ocean. "I'm sorry I wasn't around when you needed me, and I'm sorry I haven't helped you more to work out the issues with the folks. I just... I don't know what to do."

"Neither do I," Blaine murmurs, and rests his head on his brother's shoulder.

Cooper takes his hand, and holds it firmly.

"I don't..." Blaine begins.

"Ssh, hold on a sec. I'm savouring this emotion so I can use it in a scene one day; it might even give me romantic inspiration."

Blaine chuckles, shakes his head, and laces his fingers with his brother. He's shown more emotions than what's usual for him, and Blaine takes what he can get.

"I so could be a gay icon," he muses.

"Sure thing, Coop, sure thing."

The elder Anderson gives his hand a firm squeeze, before separating them.

"Come on, Squirt, we need to get going."

They drive towards what Blaine recognizes as the Hollywood district, and Cooper points out main attractions.

"In that bar I met this cute British exchange student, she was feisty. And while at Apolis over there to shop for black v-necks I met a sexy Milwaukee-girl I dated for a while."

"You dated her?" Blaine asks surprised.

"Sure did. Friday in the fitting room, Saturday in her hotel room, and Sunday in this car before her flight went."

"Gross!" Blaine exclaims, and realizes there are no back seats in the car.

Cooper ruffles his hair and laughs at him.

"Oh, I did my latest headshots in the photo studio over there," he beams.

"What, and you did the photographer afterwards?"

"Don't be stupid, Blaine, that would be unprofessional." Beat. "I did the receptionist."

Blaine tries to adjust his hair with the help of the tiny mirror on the sun visor.

"If your acting career never takes off, I see tour guiding would be right up your alley," he mumbles.

"Oh, but it will take off. We're on our way to my next audition now, for a big movie. I can't reveal anything, because it's all very much of a shushed mystery done by David Fincher, so I believe we're talking about a sequel to a certain movie about a certain assembly for people boxing with some twists to general good sportsmanship, if you catch my drift?" Cooper says as if he's inviting Blaine to some kind of world secret.

"And I'm coming because...?"

"Because you can actually learn something. Like always turning into the picture."

"I'm not going to be an actor, Coop, so save your breath," Blaine says solemnly, looking out of the window on the passenger door.

"Hey," Cooper says, putting a gentle hand on Blaine's knee. "I know Daddy Dearest has pinpointed you to be some kind of lawyer in the firm. But remember, you can do anything you want. You don't have to let them dictate you."

Blaine keeps looking out of the window, fighting off tears and wondering why this was so easy for his brother. Why could he just do whatever he desired, even when they crashed spectacularly with their parents' expectations for him? He's not even convincingly successful in what he does, but mostly plays in commercials. How did he manage to get out of father's leash, and why can't Blaine stand up and claim his own dreams and wishes for his own future?

_Because you're a coward. Because you're weak. Because you're a failure. You're not fit to draw out your own path anyway, and is better off with someone telling you what to do, so you're sure to succeed at least in one arena._

Cooper stops at a parking place, and they get out of the car, walking towards a big office building. They take the elevator to the 12th floor.

"If their offices had been one floor up, I would have turned around and left. I simply cannot do any auditions or work in any combination with that number," Cooper says earnestly.

Blaine silently wonders what Cooper did facing his audition number 13, as the bell dings and the elevator door opens.

"Ah, we're here," Cooper says, leaving the elevator, and Blaine follows him two steps behind.

"I'm Cooper Beniamino Anderson, and I'm here to audition," he says charmingly to the receptionist, and winks at her. "This lad here is Blaine, he's my PA and will help me control my extremely busy day, but I'm sure we've scheduled plenty of time for this visit," he purrs, and the blushing blonde talks with someone through the intercom.

They are gestured to a sitting group to wait. Five minutes later a deep male voice booms "Mr. Anderson?" in the room, and both the younger and elder brother look up. Blaine wordlessly follows Cooper as he gestures for him to do so, and the man leads them to a big room. Three men and two women are sitting by a long table, each with a big stack of papers in front of them. An expensive looking crystal carafe with water is perched in front of each of them, with matching glasses. Their expressions are stoic and expectant. Blaine sneaks in behind them to wait in a corner, while Cooper struts confidently to the middle of the room, where another man is waiting to act against him.

"Good morning, wonderful people, I'm Cooper Beniamino Anderson, and I'm here to audition for the role as Tyler."

* * *

"Did you notice how I pointed to make sure they all knew who I was talking to? And then I started to shout to add to the drama? Those are important lessons, Squirt."

Blaine smiles mischievously, letting his brother rant about the auditions and all the pointers he apparently wanted Blaine to take for his future potential acting situations.

"Let's grab some lunch," Cooper suddenly suggests.

Blaine is about to object, claiming their parents must want them back home, but he finds himself agreeing and hence postponing the inevitable meeting with his father for another hour or so.

The lunch ends up taking two hours, because Cooper can't help but chat up some giggling girls on the next table. Blaine sits with his phone in his hand all the time, willing it to alert him of an incoming message. He opens a new message to text Kurt several times, but thinks better of it and stops himself. Clearly Kurt doesn't want anything to do with him. It hurts. God, it hurts. He can tell his friends in school about the ridiculous audition he just watched Cooper give, and he can gush to them about how he think they might have driven past Christina Aguilera. He doesn't need Kurt for that, even though he composed several texts about those things before deleting them. He just wants Kurt, in any way possible, in his life. He misses him like crazy, and the rejection is like a glowing knife stabbed to his heart over and over again.

When they finally get home, Blaine goes straight to his room to cry himself to sleep without greeting his parents first, leaving it to Cooper to explain where he went.

* * *

Blaine wakes up to _"Hey Witch doctor, give us the magic words!"_ He takes a moment to clear his sleepy head and gruff voice, before answering.

"I woke you up," doctor Whimchester says apologetically.

"You did, but it's OK, I should get up anyway."

The doctor sighs.

"Sometimes you're too polite. You're allowed to be annoyed when someone disturbs your sleep."

"Yeah, well, I'm not."

"How's your day been?"

Blaine dives into a fairly elaborated description of his day with Cooper.

"That's good, you've been out and around, braved the real world, and survived. What aren't you telling me? I can hear it on your voice something's upsetting you."

"It's nothing important," Blaine deflects.

"Why don't you tell me about it, and I'll decide if it's important or not?"

Blaine sighs, but relents.

"It's just... I'm worried, about Kurt. We were so good friends, but I've hardly heard from him since I left. So I'm just thinking about him, if he's OK."

"That's not all, is it, Blaine? You also keep hitting yourself in the head and wondering what you did wrong?"

"Why do you know me so well?" Blaine groans.

"I believe that is part of my job description," the doctor chuckles. "You know I can't tell you much because of confidentiality. But remember that you're not the only one who faced changes when you left. And also consider that being in the ward is like being in another dimension. Relations and bonds are made that may not be meant for the real life later on."

"Are you telling me the friendship we developed is fake?"

"No, I'm not, and I think you know that. You don't have to devalue what you had, even though you may have to consider if it was something perfect for that specific situation. Maybe you wouldn't have bonded at all if you met under different circumstances."

"It's just so difficult to believe, when we hit it off so well..."

"Look Blaine, I don't like playing the devil's advocate here. But maybe you should try not to set you up for disappointment, appreciate the memories, but move on. You're always too hard on yourself, you don't need to add more burden to your tired shoulders. You've done nothing wrong, but not everything is meant to be."

Tears trickle down Blaine's cheek.

"I miss him..."

"I know you do. But in about 48 hours you're back in school, and you have a mad pack of friends waiting for you. Try to focus on what you know you have, instead of what you may have lost."

The doctor stays silent for a while to give Blaine a chance to compose himself.

"Are you doing better now?"

Blaine hums an affirmative.

"Good luck on your exams, Blaine, remember the strategies we've discussed before, and give me a call if you need to talk."

* * *

The Anderson's enter the sushi restaurant in their neighbourhood, which they usually visit whenever they want a laidback, casual family dinner. The tall, blonde waiter leads them to a table in a secluded corner. Gregory Anderson pulls out the chair for his petite wife, and Cooper easily slips into another chair. With a flourish, the waiter pulls out the chair for Blaine, and the young boy thanks him absentmindedly, already mentally going through the menu he knows by heart to decide what he wants to order today.

"It's so nice to finally have the family gathered," Alessa smiles brightly, letting her eyes rest on each of the three men in her life.

There's a harmless, quiet murmur among the family members as they skim through the well known menu and discuss their options.

"May I take your orders for something to drink?" the waiter asks politely, making eye contact with each and everyone of them, but his eyes linger for two seconds extra on Blaine. Blaine doesn't notice, as he's busy checking to see if Kurt's texted him, before silencing the phone to give the family dinner polite privacy.

Gregory orders a beer, Alessa gently asks for peach ice tea, and Cooper wants to be artistic and dramatic, so he orders sake.

"And for you, cutie?" the waiter asks, grinning at Blaine.

"Oh, ice water, please," Blaine smiles absentmindedly and politely, before directing his attention back to the menu.

The waiter leaves with promises of being back soon.

"Ooh, someone thinks Blainey is cuuute," Cooper drawls.

"What are you talking about?" Blaine asks confused, wondering if his brother has decided to bring up Kurt again.

Cooper nods in the direction of the bar, where their waiter is preparing their drinks, and winks.

"He's just doing his job," Blaine sighs, rolling his eyes.

"Uhu, sure thing, Squirt."

"Isn't it good to be back in LA, Valério? Here you're free to be whoever you want, and you have so many dashing men to choose from." His mom looks fondly at him, and Blaine forces out a smile.

He never feels more trapped than when he's with his family. It doesn't matter if the entire state approves of him - although he knows that's naïve to think will happen - as long as those offering most limitations for his self expression are sitting by the same table.

Blaine's dad doesn't say anything, but frowns as he's giving the waiter a subtle once over. Blaine notices what he's doing, though, notices his father's eyes move from their waiter to him and back to the waiter again. The waiter is tall, skinny, and his blonde half long hair has a couple of pink highlighs. Even though he's wearing a uniform, it still has some personalized flare to it, and Blaine wonders if it's deliberately one size too small to fit more snugly on the skinny body. He has a diamond in one of his nostrils, several rings along the shell of one of his ears, his eyes are discreetly but still obviously painted with make up, and he gesticulates with his arms in a way that seems exaggerated and uncomfortable. He's walking with an obvious swing at his hips; he almost crosses one leg in front of the other for each step he takes. Blaine can only imagine he'd look even more effeminate and flamboyant in another setting, with his own clothes and no professional boundaries. He's cute enough, but too androgynous to be Blaine's type.

He knows why his father is studying him, though. When the older Anderson looks at his son, Blaine knows it is with disapproval. Why can't Blaine be more like their waiter? Why is he such a failure? Why won't he fit in with The Plan?

It's enough of a challenge to be gay and navigate in a prejudiced and homophobic world. Blaine's always struggled to find his own voice and place, and it's an ongoing fight. He isn't brave enough to be himself, but he doesn't know if he's able to play the part his father has written for him either.

* * *

Blaine finally manages to convince Cooper to join him on the beach. He doesn't care if they'll look like some East Coast-tourists. He wants to feel sand between his toes, and he wants to float on his back in the salt water, and for a moment close his eyes and pretend everything is just peachy.

Cooper still refuses to join him in the water, but at least he accepted sitting with a book on their picnic blanket and not shout greetings in a French-Canadian accent to anyone passing by.

The water isn't that warm, so after 20 minutes Blaine gives in, and emerges out of it. He towels off before putting on some loose pants over his swim trunks. He won't risk changing with Cooper close by; he can't trust him to not make it an awkward moment. He considers putting on the hoodie too, but decides the tank top is enough for now.

"Your phone has been annoying me," Cooper says when Blaine finally slumps down next to him on the thick blanket.

"I'm sorry?" Blaine says, not sure how a phone can annoy anyone.

"Yeah, you've gotten a couple of texts which I couldn't read, because someone's changed their key pad code," he glares at his younger brother.

Blaine grins. He's not stupid; he knows his brother. He digs out his phone from the bag, along with a beer he hands over to Coop to occupy him while he reads his texts in peace. He takes a swig of his own orange juice.

"Cheers, mate!" Cooper beams in the most exaggerated effort of a British accent Blaine's ever heard, clinking their bottles.

The first text is from his roommate in school, wondering when he'll be back and if he needs a lift. (Tomorrow evening, yes please.) The second and third texts are from his roommate at Bellefontaine, and Blaine can't help the huge smile that covers his face. Finally Kurt is texting him, he hasn't heard from him since Wednesday evening.

_Can I call you?_ the first text simply says. Nothing more, nothing less. It seems so out of character for Kurt, it worries Blaine. Is something wrong, did something happen? He checks, and it's been 45 minutes since the text was sent, when Cooper and Blaine were still on their way in the car, so he can't have heard the phone.

Blaine takes a deep breath, and opens the next text instead.

_I'm so sorry, that was really forward and rude after ignoring you for almost three days. Forget it, never mind, I won't bother you._

The text is sent only ten minutes ago, and as Blaine is about to answer, a new text lands in his inbox.

_I just need to know you're OK, then I'll get out of your hair._

Blaine smiles sadly, and composes a long text to Kurt.

_Hey, sorry I didn't hear the phone. Feel free to call me, whenever. I'm among people now, if you need a private conversation I'll let you know when I'm back home. I'm OK, trying to recharge the batteries before my exams next week._

There's so much more Blaine wants to say, but he leaves it at that and hits the send-button. The answer comes shortly after.

_And how does Blaine recharge his batteries?_

Blaine snickers, and types out some lyrics for Kurt.

_Sippin' gin and juice, Layin' underneath the palm trees, The boys break their necks, Tryin' to creep a little sneak peek._

_Did you really go swimming in December, Blaine? Are you seriously at the beach?_

"Hey Coop?" Blaine asks, scooting closer to his brother, so they're sitting thigh to thigh.

Cooper looks up, and notices Blaine holding the phone up in front of them, ready to take a picture, with the long, pale beach as their background. Cooper wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulders and kisses his cheek as Blaine takes the picture.

"Do you want me to sign anything as well?" he asks, rummaging the bag for a pen.

"I'm perfectly fine without," Blaine chuckles, and sends the picture to Kurt.

It takes a while before Kurt answers again, but when he does, Blaine almost chokes on his juice.

_Are you getting white sand in your stilettos? Or are you getting freaky in your jeep?_

_Gross, Kurt, that is my brother!_

_Aww, caught in a bad romance?_

_I only want YOUR leather studded kiss in the sand._

Blaine holds his breath as he sends the last text, not quite sure if he's crossing a limit or simply stepping back to what they did in the ward. They've never addressed their kissing, just done it. But he really misses Kurt, in every single way, and would give anything to swap the brother next to him with the beautiful boy in Ohio.

_Oh, no I do not hook up, up I go slow. So if you want me I don't come cheap. Keep your hand in my hand, And your heart on your sleeve._

Blaine giggles, and starts poking his brain for good lyrics to reply with, and he doesn't notice how Cooper is watching him with amusement.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Cartoon -_ Witch Doctor_

Katy Perry - _California Gurls_

Lady Gaga - _Bad Romance_

Kelly Clarkson - _I Do Not Hook Up_

* * *

**Author's note:**

I'd like to draw attention to the names I've chosen, as I don't do things randomly. So when I gave the Anderson's their Italian names, it was because I liked the meaning behind the names, finding them fitting for this story.

**Alessa** - Pet form of Italian Alessandra, meaning "defender of mankind." As a mother, she'll do anything she thinks is needed for the men in her life.

**Beniamino** - Italian form of Hebrew Binyamin, meaning "son of the right hand." As their first born, I would expect them to give him a special name, a name for someone important and potential.

**Pezzi** – Alessa's last name before she got married, and a name Blaine obviously likes to drape himself in when he's trying out different personas at the airport. Plural variant of Pezza, a habitational name from any of numerous places named with medieval Latin pecia, petia 'piece', 'fragment'. Being Italian is part of being Blaine, so I found it suitable.

**Valério** – means strong or valorous, and what could fit better for a fighter like Blaine in a story like this? Courage, my friend.


	28. Heartbroken

**Again I am forced to show my appreciation and gratefulness for all of your feedbacks on this story - whether you're reading it, or even leaving a comment or favouriting it. It blows my mind!**

**This chapter took some time to write, as it's fairly heavy on the angst and emotions, and I wanted it to be just right - I hope you can forgive my delay for trying to be as good an author as possible.**

**I forgot to say in my last chapter, that if anyone wondered about the Scrabble letters Kurt got from Blaine in chapter 26, they were supposed to spell out _COURAGE_.**

**Oh, and I've written my first one-shot since last update, called DST. It's FutureKlaine and has nothing to do with this story at all, but inspiration struck me, and it had to be written.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Glee.  
**

* * *

Kurt's eyes are dry, sore and itching. He's cried until there are no more tears to force out of him, stubbornly wiping them away with his shirt sleeve. It's stupid, he knows it is, but he can't help but mourn the feeling of loss. He had hoped Blaine would still be a friend he could turn to. But what kind of friendship can they ever have if they can't ever even see each other? Kurt had felt both determined and resigned when he first understood where Blaine was living. He'd accepted it immediately, knowing there was nothing he could do to change yet another cruel fact in his life. But his brave façade had slipped shortly after, and he had just felt so abandoned, lonely, disappointed and hurt. He had cried for ages, clinging to the pillow still smelling of Blaine, until he must have drifted off to sleep.

According to his phone, it's around 3 AM. Kurt's staring at the ceiling in the dim room. He blinks several times, trying to add moisture to his eyes, but he's drained of any kind of fluids, it seems. Good. Then maybe he won't have to suffer through any more painful crying.

Kurt isn't sure exactly what he expected or hoped for, and why Blaine's absence is paining him like this. If he digs deep into his mind, he guesses he really never ever imagined anything about the post-mental ward future of theirs. He'd been more or less living – or existing – in the moment. Blaine's departure had been so sudden and surprising, for the both of them. There had been no time to talk about what could happen out there, in the real world. There had been no time to prepare each other for some harsh facts or plan out how they'd continue to stay in touch – if they wanted to stay in touch. They had kept themselves busy, and Kurt had gone all out hoping to distract Blaine from his fears of meeting the real world again. He'd even joined him in the gym and made a fool of himself with dancing a couple of numbers in front of him.

It wasn't until they went to bed, the dire seriousness of it all caught up on them. Kurt had held the other boy in his arms, whispering reassurances to him, trying to kiss all the confidence he too lacked into the boy. There had been no real conversation, no planning, no speculations, no exchanging of wishes. It had been all about comforting Blaine, trying to do at least something for the scared boy. At least it had been, until Blaine sprung the idea of going out on a date on Kurt. He'd rejected the suggestion immediately. Kurt Hummel is not dating material, and Blaine deserves someone so much better than him. He just can't, he won't risk hurting the boy with his shortcomings and issues.

There's a traitorous part of Kurt, though, which hates him for his mindset. That tiny part of him that would like to know how it would be to date Blaine, kiss Blaine more, hold hands, be each other's boyfriend, be each other's everything. That tiny part of him which is craving for happiness, which desperately wants to forget about reality, and to create a pink bubble where anything is possible.

Kurt sharpens his finger nail, and bursts the bubble. Nothing's possible; reality will make sure of that.

Kurt drifts off to a fitful sleep, pictures of Blaine flashing in his mind, making his heart ache. He misses Blaine, badly. And it's been less than 24 hours.

* * *

The next time Kurt wakes up, it's because Margaret is jostling him.

"Morning, sweetie, breakfast is served in half an hour, I think you have to get up," she coos gently, but shaking his shoulder firmly enough for him to feel it.

He groans and turns around to face her.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbles, and buries his head in Blaine's pillow.

"You need to eat, you missed out on both dinner and supper yesterday," Margaret objects.

"I don't feel too good," Kurt insists, tucking the covers closer to his chin.

"Why don't you get up, take a quick shower, and try to eat something. If you still don't feel well, I'll let you go back to bed. Is that a deal?"

Kurt sighs, deeply, but relents, and flops out of bed.

"Thank you for trying," Margaret says softly and pats his shoulder as she leaves him to offer some privacy.

Neither a cold nor a hot shower makes Kurt feel any better. He's still tired, nauseous, and he just feels heavy and exhausted. He wants to scream and cry, kick and hit something, and just forget about everything. He doesn't know if he's mostly angry or sad, maybe it's a furious mix of both.

He slouches down in a chair by the dining table, and he must be radiating with his off vibe, because nobody tries to pull him into conversation. Jenny gives him a half smile, head tilted, and she looks worriedly at him. He ignores her, and stares through his plate, through the table, through the floor, down, down, down.

Margaret pours him a cup of coffee, and mechanically he adds some milk to it. He stirs it with a spoon, and he gets caught up in the repetitive movement.

"Can we pass you anything?" Margaret offers, gesturing at the food decked out on the table.

Kurt shakes his head while still stirring the coffee mug.

"I'm not hungry," he whispers.

She smiles sadly at him, but leaves it at that.

Izabella is the first to finish eating and leaving the table, and Kurt jumps up two seconds after her.

"I need to sleep," he explains, and rushes out of the room.

He all but falls down in his bed, and crawls in under the covers. He makes a cocoon of the blanket and dune, clutching the pillow with the faint scent of Blaine. His mind is completely silent, and it's one of the biggest blessings Kurt's ever experienced.

* * *

Thomas comes by around noon to check on him. He takes the office chair from the desk where Blaine used to do his school works, and sits down close to Kurt's bed.

"How are you?"

Kurt doesn't answer. Isn't it obvious he's just great, grand, amazing, wonderful? He hasn't moved all day, and is still clinging to Blaine's pillow, nestling under the covers, only his head peaking out.

"Have you gotten any sleep?"

Kurt shrugs. He can't be sure. He thinks he's been awake all the time, but he may have dozed off to something dreamless. His mind is just numb, and he can't really remember anything. Time came by to visit, but disappeared quickly again when it discovered Kurt didn't need to use it.

"Would you like to come with me to the common's room and join the others, instead of being here all alone?"

Kurt closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe, almost choking on air. The thought of being in there, with the others, and without Blaine, hurts like salt in a knife stab. He was already reluctant to social interactions when he came to the ward, but Blaine managed to get him to peak out of his shell. Now Blaine is gone, and there's no reason to be social. Why bond with someone you're just going to lose anyway?

"Are you hungry? Lunch is in less than an hour."

Kurt shakes his head, barely recognizable. The thought of food makes his stomach clench, and he feels queasy.

"Is it better if I bring something here, so you don't have to get out of bed?"

Kurt shrugs. He doesn't care what Thomas does. He isn't hungry, he hasn't got an appetite, food really doesn't interest him now.

Thomas smiles reassuringly at him, and leaves. Ten minutes later he returns with a tray. He places it on the night stand, right in front of Kurt's vision, the direction he happens to be staring through. There's a coffee mug, a glass of water, and a plate with various sandwiches. Thomas leaves, and Kurt turns around to face the wall instead.

When Thomas comes back two hours later, Kurt is asleep and the food untouched.

* * *

There's no specific reason to why Kurt wakes up the next time, at least he can't recognize any source of disturbance. He exhales deeply and kicks off his covers. Hands automatically rubbing his still sleepy eyes, making them feel dry and sore again. He runs a hand through his hair, and a minor part of him acknowledges he needs a shower, but the majority of him says it doesn't matter and postpones it. His throat feels like sandpaper, and for a moment Kurt panics, feeling as if he can neither swallow nor breathe. He stumbles out of bed to drink some water in the bathroom, and his blather reminds him of its existence.

He picks up his phone from the nightstand to see what time it is, hoping it's so late it's expected to go back to sleep. It isn't, though, and Kurt decides he doesn't care.

One new text, and it's an automatic reaction rather than curiosity that makes him check it.

_Hey Kurt, I hope Sarah isn't boring you senselessly. Have you had any coffee yet? Courage! Blaine_

He climbs back into bed. He feels warm, too hot, so instead of pulling the covers over him, he shuffles them into a long dummy. He wraps his arms around it, resting one leg over it. He buries his head in the thick blanket, sniffs and swallows heavily. The loyalty cards from the coffee shops burn in his pocket, and images of Blaine flashes in front of his eyes. Kurt forces his eyelids shut, trying to block it all out, to no avail. Tears he didn't think he could create more of slowly trickle down his cheeks.

The phone alerts him of an incoming text, and Kurt is pretty sure he knows who it's from. A part of him wants to ignore it, not let any more of Blaine enter him, protect himself from opening the wounds even more. A part of him is a masochist, and grabs the phone.

_I hate trigonometry. Why do we have to learn this stuff anyway?_

Kurt exhales loudly, smiling sadly, and looks over at the desk in the big, lonely room. He can picture Blaine still sitting by the desk, bent over his books or the computer to work on a paper. His exams are coming up next week, and Kurt knows the boy is both dreading them and looking forward to it. They'd talked a bit about it, how anxious Blaine felt about it. He was glad to get back in time to get them done, but he also worried he wasn't sufficiently prepared. Kurt had seen the fear in his eyes. Blaine doesn't want to let down his parents with anything but stellar academic achievements. He remembers him talking about how he never felt good enough, how he always felt pressured from his parents to be even better, how their expectations was choking him and wrapping him in a constant feeling of stress, underachievement and dissatisfaction.

Kurt's heart aches. Both for Blaine and for himself. He wishes there was something he could do to help Blaine, but Blaine is no longer a part of his life. Blaine will have to get through this on his own, and similarly will Kurt have to suck it up and move on.

The phone vibrates on top of his chest, and against better judgement Kurt checks it again, reading the text he expected to be from Blaine.

_Now, history I can understand, that has a useful potential. One should think people would learn from history, though, but history clearly shows few do. _

Kurt chuckles at the thought of his intelligent, witty and entertaining… Scratch that, Blaine isn't _his_ anything anymore. Fresh tears fall down again, and Kurt briefly wonders if they might be made of blood. How much salt water for tears can a body consist of? Absentmindedly he runs his index finger along the wet trails, but it doesn't show up red.

Kurt keeps staring at the ceiling, crying silently, and trying to ignore all the pictures of Blaine and their shared moments being shown on his eyelids.

When the phone chimes yet again, he reaches out for it and opens the new text as if in a Pavlovian response. It's not as if yet a text from Blaine can make him hurt even more, he thinks, and reads.

_Discworld is not on the reading list for my lit class, and it's poorer for it._

And how wrong could he be. The mentioning of the books they had read and discussed together is another memory Kurt had suppressed, and all their nice conversations are suddenly played on reruns in his ears.

Kurt cries himself to sleep.

* * *

A soft hand is running up and down Kurt's arm, gently squeezing it.

"Kurt, sweetie, you have to get up," he can hear the distant voice say, but his eyelids are too heavy, the bed is too warm, and he really can't see any reason for why he should be awake. Life's just cruel, he can't deal with it, sleep is better.

"Come on, Kurt, supper is served in fifteen minutes. I bet you're hungry."

Kurt groans, and turns around, away from the insisting voice.

"I know you can hear me. Open up those pretty eyes of yours and listen to me, will you honey?"

The hands firmly pry him over so he's on his back in bed. He sighs, and lets the eyes flutter slowly to be opened. The light in the room blinds him, and he blinks several times.

"There you are," the soft voice coos, and Kurt tries to focus his gaze on the shape sitting on his bedside.

"Margaret," he croaks, voice still glazed with sleepiness.

"Oh Kurt, I think you should get out of bed for a while. You need to eat and drink, and you won't be able to sleep tonight if you stay in bed all day."

"I'm not hungry," Kurt mutters.

"I know," Margaret smiles sweetly. "But join us anyway. I want you to drink at least one glass of water; you need fluids, at least. Come on." She takes his hand, and playfully pulls him up in a sitting position. "Go freshen up in the bathroom, I'll wait for you here," she promises.

Kurt takes a deep breath, and all but rolls out of bed. He wishes she'd just leave, so he could go back to bed without anyone noticing. He doesn't want to do anything, just sleep.

He splashes some water in his face and brushes his teeth, because that would be the polite thing to do before sitting down by a table with other people. His shirt is crinkled from sleeping in, and his jeans doesn't feel too comfortable anymore either. Kurt doesn't care. He takes off the crooked tie, pats his messy head without gaining any real results, and stumbles back to Margaret.

"Come on, now. Tim is making us grilled cheese and hot chocolate, doesn't that sound mouth watering?" Margaret tempts, to no avail.

Kurt is tired of stating how not hungry he is, so he lets her gush about the food until they are in the common's room and can sit down by the dining table again. He slides down in a chair next to Jenny.

"Hey Kurt," she smiles hesitantly.

He forces the corners of his lips to turn upwards, and nods at her.

Margaret looks sternly at him, so he pours himself a glass of water, and downs it in one go, forces it down his tight throat. He thinks he's going to be sick, and closes his eyes, holding on to the edge of the table, focusing on breathing calmly.

Tim puts down a plate with hot cheese sandwiches in front of him, and Kurt's head jerks back. The scent of the cheese tickles his gag reflex.

He doesn't touch the food, and ignores Margaret's looks in his direction.

"Do you want some fruit?" Jenny offers, pointing at the basket on the end of the table.

Kurt shakes his head, slowly, carefully.

"No, thank you," he whispers.

Yosef is the first to finish his food, and as soon as he gets up from the table to leave, Kurt quickly follows, going straight back to his room.

Without thinking, he checks his phone, and sees he has one unread text.

_I think Cooper is chaperoning me to get coffee. I had a much better time when you and I went together. I hope you're OK. Courage. Blaine_

When the phone lands unharmed on the floor, Kurt's already yanked up the bathroom door, and drops to the floor clutching the toilet. He hives, and the glass of water he drank 20 minutes ago is returned. He holds the porcelain bowl firmly, waiting to see if anything else is coming. He coughs and gags, a few tears falling down his pale cheeks.

He's in the same position when Margaret finds him ten minutes later.

"Oh sweetie, poor thing. Come to bed. I think you can need one of those herbal sleeping pills now, to make sure you get some more sleep and rest."

She holds him under the arms to help him back on his feet, and support him so he can wash his face without having to maintain control of his entire body weight.

"I know you hurt now, but it'll get better, honey, I promise it will."

Margaret tucks him in, takes the light, and leave to get him the pill.

When she comes back, Kurt's already fast asleep.

* * *

"Kurt, you have a visitor," Thomas interrupts his sleep.

Kurt stretches, yawns, curls his toes, rubs his eyes, and smiles hesitantly.

"Five minutes?" he asks softly.

Thomas grins, gives him the thumbs up, and closes the door again. Kurt hurries out of bed to get dressed, brush his teeth, fix his hair and get ready for this surprise visit. He still feels sad and heavy, but he doesn't want to make anyone worry, and he'll do his best to put up a nice face and make it a pleasant visit.

There's a knock on the door again, and Kurt walks over to open it. His jaw drops when he sees who's on the other side.

"May I come in?" Blaine asks gently. He's rolling on the ball of his feet, and smiles while biting his lower lip. He's vibrating with both hesitance and eagerness.

"Yes!" Kurt hisses surprised, stepping away from the doorframe.

Blaine steps over the threshold, and holds out two cups of coffee he were hiding behind his back.

"The usual?" he says smugly.

"The usual," Kurt nods shyly, twirling on the spot. "I can't believe you're actually here."

"A part of me will always be with you," Blaine answers softly.

They sit down close in Kurt's bed, shoulders and thighs touching. No words are spoken as they slowly sip their hot coffees. They keep throwing curious glances at the other, but shyly looking away when the other catches their eyes.

"Good coffee," Kurt finally sighs as he swallows the last sip and puts the empty styrofoam cup on the nightstand.

"Oh, I wanted to have a taste of your coffee," Blaine says disappointed, and places his own cup next to Kurt's.

"You should have let me know earlier, I would have let you," Kurt turns slightly towards Blaine.

"Make it up to me," Blaine encourages.

Kurt looks questioningly at him, wondering what he can do to redeem the situation. Their eyes are locked, he couldn't look away if he wanted to; Blaine is magnetic. The other boy cups his cheek, waits for a moment, before leaning slowly in. He captures Kurt's bottom lip with his own lips, and gently nibbles at it. Kurt gasps from the surprise and from the tingling sensation that shoots right to his abdomen, and Blaine lets his tongue visit Kurt's opened mouth. Their tongues dance a steaming tango, until Blaine leaves him to explore the roof of Kurt's mouth, lets his tongue trail over his teeth, licking his lips, and finishes the kiss with a wet popping sound.

"Good coffee," Blaine agrees grinningly.

They've somehow ended up with Kurt on his back, and Blaine leaning over him, elbows resting on each side of the taller boy. Kurt wraps his arm around the other boy's waist, and tugs him closer. Blaine lies down, chest to chest. One leg is resting on the bed, the other on top of Kurt's legs.

"I missed you," Kurt sighs, and Blaine kisses him closed lips.

"I know you did. And you'll continue to miss me," Blaine whispers, running a hand through Kurt's hair.

Kurt wants to scold him for ruining his hair, but then he remembers he hasn't really styled his hair today. Besides, he wants to enjoy the time he has with Blaine. His hair isn't leaving; Blaine will be. So he lifts his head a couple of inches to close the distance between their lips, and tugs on him to get even closer.

"How long can you stay?"

"Forever. Not at all."

"You're weird," Kurt teases, but his smile falters when he sees the other boy's sadness. "Blaine?"

He leans in and kisses Kurt thoroughly, not stopping until the other boy has closed his eyes, his body shivering from excitement, and panting moans into Blaine's mouth.

"I'm not really here," he whispers apologetically in Kurt's ear, and pecks him one last time.

"What do you mean?" Kurt chuckles, and opens his eyes. He takes in the empty, dark room. There are no coffee cups on the night stand. There is no Blaine in his bed. There's only a tingle on his lips from where he's bitten himself.

Kurt rolls over, holding Blaine's pillow. His scent has almost faded away completely. He stares out of the window, and the dawning light. It must have been raining recently. Kurt's eyes follow a drop of water on the window glass, travelling slowly downwards an intricate path. Kurt can't cry anymore. The world is crying for him.

* * *

Kurt stays in that position, staring out of the window without really watching anything, until Thomas comes to wake him up for breakfast.

He changes his clothes, because Thomas suggests he do so. He sits down by the breakfast table, because Thomas tells him to do so. It's easier to do what he's told, than having to think for himself. He pours himself a cup of coffee, but then he remembers last nights dream, and he sets the mug down on the table again, coffee untouched.

He joins the morning meeting, without really hearing much of what is being said. Evidently it's Friday, and Kurt doesn't know if it surprises him or not. It seems like such a long time since Blaine left, but it's only been two days. But time has been going so slow afterwards; he could have guessed it was still Wednesday.

"Are you ready?" Thomas asks, and Kurt's mind must have wandered off completely.

He gets up from the couch, trying to fake understanding of what's going on. Friday, Friday, whatever did they usually do after the morning assembly on Fridays?

"Doctor Whimchester will be here in a couple of minutes," Thomas explains, and Kurt turns towards the conversation room. "Do you want anything to drink?"

Kurt shakes his head, and moves slowly towards the designated room. He feels so tired, his body aches, and if he moves too quickly his head starts spinning. Before he has reached the couch where he always have the talks with the doctor, Thomas is back with a glass of water and two mugs of coffee. He places the water in front of where Kurt usually sits. Kurt sinks down in the couch, curling up, and resting his head on the back of the couch. It's silent, so blessedly silent in here, after the noise and ruckus during both breakfast and the morning meeting. Kurt closes his eyes, but keeps them wide open when images of Blaine keep flashing on his eyelids.

He can hear somebody enter the room, and a muffled exchange between Thomas and the other person. Kurt doesn't even try to listen; he doesn't care. He just wants to get this over with, so he can go back to bed. At least he'll be more comfortable lying down there, than sitting here.

"How are you, Kurt?" doctor Whimchester asks.

Kurt fails to recognize the worry and concern shining from the doctor's eyes. He's pulled his legs up to his chest, and is resting his forehead on his knees now. He shrugs. Almost graduated high school, a former straight A-student, a past of witty comebacks and well articulated retaliations, and still he knows no words to describe his current state.

"Are there anything we can do to make you feel better?"

Kurt pokes on the fabric of his jeans stretched over his knees. He wonders if he can make a hole. Tear them apart. Destroy them. It would be nice to be able to break something, so he doesn't have to be the only one being so damn broken.

He hears some shuffling of papers, and assumes the doctor is rereading the reports on Kurt for the last 48 hours. He's pretty sure Thomas and Margaret has written down every single little thing Kurt has said and done. Or not said and done. There are more of the lather, he snorts to himself.

"You haven't eaten in two days."

Kurt nods, almost, blink and you miss it.

"If you don't start eating, we have no choice but to put you on IV. You need nutrition and energy."

Good, Kurt thinks. Then he doesn't have to chew and chew and chew, and feel how the food grows in my mouth, refuses to be swallowed, and makes him feel choked and nauseous at the same time.

"Have you had any nightmares lately?" the doctor asks.

"No…" Kurt whispers, and shakes his head a little. The movement makes him dizzy. But it's true he hasn't had any nightmares. That's impossible, when you can't even sleep properly.

"Are your suicidal thoughts coming back? Are you thinking about trying again?"

Kurt shakes his head again, and he really should stop doing that if he wants the couch to stop bouncing in the spinning room.

He hasn't got any decisive thoughts about trying again, because he hasn't got a single clue how he should start to make it happen. It'll have to wait until he's discharged, and he can find some pills or blades or a cliff or a bus to run under, or whatever he decides to try.

"You miss Blaine…" Thomas says softly. It really isn't asked, merely stated.

The heart clenching sob, the shivers running through him, and how he tries to curl himself even smaller is the only answer he's able to give. The tears and sobs are punishing him, hurting him, paining him. He shouldn't feel, he shouldn't connect with anyone, he shouldn't get used to other people, he errored with Blaine. His body is in the mercy of his pain, and he cries until he can't breath, even though he didn't think he could cry anymore and was drained of all tears. He suddenly has to lean over the armrest and purge. Nothing but bile comes up, and it burns. He heaves and coughs, spits and cries harder, and more sour fluids forces their way up and out.

* * *

During the five years he's worked in the psychiatric emergency ward for youth, Thomas' met a lot of different kids, with various pasts, presents, views on their futures, and challenges. In Thomas' mind, nobody have _problems_ – he likes to see them as challenges, something that can be solved and worked with. A problem seems so finite and negative, so degrading and deviant. Challenges, on the other hand, are something that encourages him to make an effort, something that is merely an obstacle in the regular path. Thomas has always loved a good challenge. "Normal" is not a word in his vocabulary. Happiness, however, is.

He sees a lot of pain, fear, self loathing, hurt, anger, and resignation in his work. But that's OK, because Thomas has plenty of determination, and an almost childlike, naïvely firm belief that it will get better, eventually. He thinks he usually succeeds in avoiding patronizing the kids for their struggles and challenges with his optimism, and he always, always respects how they feel and view their current life situation. Even though they get fairly close and personal with the kids, he always tries to stay professional, with a tiny bit of distance. He can't let them get too close, if he is to function outside of the ward. He can't bring any work with him back home to his wife and children, emotionally or mentally.

But some of the kids manage to crawl closer to his heart than others. Blaine is one example, and really it is inevitable when the boy's been there four times in two years, making it a couple of months in total. Thomas loves to see the development, see how they heal, see how they change and become happier again. Thomas knows some of the staff says the kids get better, but to Thomas they have never been _bad_. They've just been in a place of pain and hurt, and his job is to help them out of that bubble and into a new one of happiness.

Even though he's a pure optimist, he isn't naïve enough to think that they are completely and utterly happy when they leave the ward. Hell, usually they've only been able to help them back to a neutral level with no immediate danger or emergency, and then further health care outside of the emergency ward will have to provide assistance back to the smiles and laugher again. As an emergency ward they can only remove the worst sting of pain, and then a more long term treatment from somewhere else continues the journey to happiness.

Thomas has met several kids who've tried to end their lives, and he's met even more with destructive thoughts. They stay in the ward until they've gotten some of that life spark back, but the depression and other diagnosis' will be treated somewhere else. Not every kid that comes to the ward is suicidal. Blaine is an example of that, but Thomas doesn't want to think about how bad things could have gotten if Blaine hadn't come to them when he did. The Blaine he first met is just a faded shadow of the Blaine he bid goodbye and sent off to LA two days ago. He's come so far, and it's seeing results like that, that makes Thomas love his job.

Kurt is another remarkable kid, in Thomas' opinion. He had come so far in the two weeks he's been in the ward, and Thomas was beginning to think they might be able to let him go back home soon, with some kind of follow up program. But the Kurt he's seen the last 48 hours is a Kurt that has digressed back to who he was when he arrived, maybe even further back. Thomas had voiced his concern about this on the extra staff meeting when they discussed the rooming arrangement and Seth. He'd seen clearly how much Blaine and Kurt enjoyed each others company, and how Kurt seemed to blossom in the other boy's presence. Thomas likes them both, very much, and if someone could find a good friend – or more, Thomas knows he'd more or less caught them making out a couple of times – from this stay, he'd be the first to root for them. But it doesn't make him worry less about how Kurt will do without Blaine. Christy had said they'd deal with it when they came to that point, and now they are at that point. Kurt doesn't eat, sleeps poorly, doesn't speak, doesn't care, and has retreated into a shell nobody is invited in to.

Thomas' simple mentioning of Blaine had ejected a big reaction in Kurt, though, with a lot of emotions and throwing up. If they were looking for a confirmation of how much Blaine meant to Kurt, this would clearly be it.

Thomas holds the back of his hand on Kurt's forehead. He doesn't seem as hot anymore. They'd gotten him back to bed, and doctor Whimchester had prescribed a sedative to make the boy sleep and get rested. IV is currently dripping into a vein on Kurt's right hand, to get some nutrition in the weak body. If he still has a fever in an hour, they'll do something with that too, but the sedative should make him sleep at least two more hours. Thomas opens the window slightly, to replace some of the heavy, oxygen lacking air with something fresher.

He adjusts the sheets over the boy, so he won't be cold from the biting December air. Except for his face and the right hand, he's covered in warm blankets. Thomas sighs, and readjusts on the uncomfortable chair. He'll stay with the poor soul until he wakes up again. Thomas had suggested calling Blaine, even though the doctor spoke with him yesterday, to make sure he's still doing OK, worried the separation might be affecting Blaine as well. He wonders if these two boys ever will meet again, and if they'll be able to maintain the relationship – whatever its nature – they initiated in the ward.

* * *

Thomas is surprised, but glad, when Kurt hesitantly walks into the common's room later that afternoon. He looks unsteady on his feet, but he's got colour in his cheeks, and there's some life in his eyes as well.

"Hey Kurt" Thomas smiles at him.

Kurt is fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater, and watching his own toes intently.

"Anything I can do for you?"

Kurt's eyes quickly flicker up to meet those of Thomas, and he throws his head towards the hallways.

"Sure," Thomas still smiles, and gets up to follow the boy out for some more privacy than the common's room offers.

Kurt coughs, wets his lips, and coughs again. Thomas waits patiently for him to find the words.

Kurt blinks, several times, and his lips are moving without any sound letting out, as if he's testing the words.

"Can… Can I go downstairs for a couple of minutes?"

Kurt looks Thomas straight in the eyes, and is breathing heavily.

Thomas doesn't question his request, and after letting the rest of the staff know, he escorts Kurt to the elevator and down to the gym. He unlocks the door, and steps aside so Kurt can enter.

"What do you need?"

Kurt doesn't say anything, but his eyes are trained on the piano in the corner.

"I can't leave you completely alone, but I can wait out here if you want?" Thomas offers.

Kurt simply nods, and goes determined towards the piano. Thomas slides down along the wall to sit on the cold concrete floor. After more than two days acting like a zombie, Thomas isn't going to stand in the way when Kurt finally needs something and makes an effort to get out of bed.

Kurt starts playing some chords on the piano, no melody, just a rhythm and a sound. Thomas isn't much of a musician, but he thinks Kurt is repeating the same pattern several times, before he starts singing.

_No I can't forget this evening  
__Or your face as you were leaving  
__But I guess that's just the way  
__The story goes  
__You always smile but in your eyes  
__Your sorrow shows  
__Yes it shows _

Thomas may not know much about music, but the sadness in Kurt's voice makes it difficult to swallow. The lump in his throat blocks for normal breathing, and this is every confirmation Thomas might have needed about how Kurt feels.

_I can't live  
__If living is without you  
__I can't live  
__I can't give anymore  
__I can't live  
__If living is without you  
__I can't give__I can't give anymore _

The chorus makes Thomas choke up, and he has to blink several times to keep the tears at bay. He won't cry, he can't cry from a patient's emotions, he needs to keep a distance. But the vulnerability, the intensity and the pain in Kurt's voice as he repeats the chorus over and over is almost too much to take.

The last tones fade away, and it's silent in the room for several minutes. Thomas is about to get up to check on Kurt, when he begins playing again. A deep rumbling rhythm on the piano, so different from the first song.

_Same old story is back again  
__He's not a lover, he's just a friend_

The first bit is sung so much clearer than the rest of the verse, as if Kurt is picking out bits and parts that he needs to say. Thomas knows the song well, it's all about lost love and bitterness. He's not sure if it talks directly to Kurt, though, at least not all of the lyrics.

_I can't eat, I can't sleep anymore  
__Waiting for love to walk through the door  
__I wish I didn't miss you anymore_

Kurt repeats the chorus three times, and Thomas' heart breaks from the pain and despair Kurt is obviously feeling. These are his lyrics, these are telling his story.

_Memories don't live like people do  
__I'm sick for ever believing you  
__Wish you'd bring back the man I knew  
__Was good to me, oh Lord_

_I can't eat, I can't sleep anymore  
__Waiting for love to walk through the door  
__I wish I didn't miss you anymore_

Thomas can hear the tears and quivering in Kurt's voice. His feelings for Blaine must have been deeper than anyone among the staff ever realized. Thomas wipes off a tear, as Kurt whimpers the chorus in a seemingly endless loop. They'll make sure Kurt smiles again. They have to.

* * *

Thomas had taken Kurt back to his room when he'd felt done, and he's now lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and clutching Blaine's pillow to his chest. Mostly out of habit, there's really no scent of Blaine left in the cotton fabric.

Kurt had surprised himself with the request to go downstairs. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel just doesn't sing anymore, but those two songs had been grinding his brain into submission until he let them force their way out through his vocal chords and piano playing. He still doesn't understand how something he's quit and abandoned could catch him like that, so unaware and defenceless. It's been a long time since he turned to music to express himself and let out some emotional steam.

He misses Blaine. It hurts to miss him. Blaine is affecting him much more than he could ever imagine, even with his absence. But Blaine is in LA, and Kurt will just have to get used to that. How can one person infiltrate his existence like that in only two weeks?

Kurt sighs. Hopefully it'll be better now that he's gotten to sing his heart out, empty it of bottled up emotions. Maybe he needed this.

He closes his eyes, and for the first time since Blaine left, he falls asleep, and stays in a deep sleep for several hour, his body and mind finally getting some rest.

* * *

Kurt spent a big chunk of the Saturday in bed, trying to do nothing. He didn't want to sleep, so he'd have more nightmares or dreams of Blaine. He didn't want to think about anything, because any thought he got tended to drift off to matters of Blaine. He didn't want to read, because his book of option was the gift from Blaine. He still wasn't hungry or able to stomach any food, so Margaret had put him on IV in the morning to make sure he got at least a minimum of nutrition and energy.

At the moment, he's on his back I bed, counting the cracks on the plastered ceiling. Christy is sitting on a chair, probably waiting patiently for him to say something. She's been there for at least 15 minutes, it could be more, but Kurt has lost track of time.

"I didn't know you worked during weekends," Kurt finally comments, the silence and her gaze unnerving him and making him spill.

"I had to pick up some papers I'd forgotten, and thought I'd see how you're doing at the same time," she shrugs, as if it isn't imposing on her day off to watch Kurt clutching to the silent treatment.

"And what do you see?" Kurt asks, not really out of curiosity, but rather to fill the deafening silence in the room.

"I know what I see. Why don't you tell me what I can't see? What's going on inside your head and heart?"

Kurt's surprised to have the conversation so mercilessly focused on him. That's probably why he finds himself answering Christy quite honestly.

"I feel lost. Abandoned. Lonely. Scared."

"Has something changed to make you feel this way?" she asks, but gives Kurt a look telling him she _knows_ what caused his sudden transformation.

"I miss Blaine," Kurt whispers, giving her the confirmation of what she didn't need to be told.

"You felt better around him, didn't you?"

Kurt nods.

"When did you talk with him last?"

Kurt looks confused at her.

"The morning he left. When else should I have spoken to him?"

"You have your phone, I take it for granted you've exchanged numbers," Christy shrugs.

"Yeah, we did, but…"

Kurt doesn't know how to finish that sentence, because he really doesn't have any good explanation to why he hasn't been in touch with Blaine, why he has chosen to ignore his texts. Except it hurts, it god damn hurts to hear from Blaine.

"You don't have to make things more difficult for yourself than necessary. Just because he isn't in the same room, doesn't mean you can't stay friends with him."

Kurt nods to show he's listening.

"I know you miss him, and I know it hurts," she continues, and tears are welling up in Kurt's eyes. "But don't you think your misery will lessen if you keep in touch and try to stay some kind of friends?"

He simply stares at her. Watching Blaine walk out of the ward had felt like watching Blaine walking out of his life, and he hadn't even considered trying to see if they could make things work via the phone.

"Have you heard from Blaine during these three days since he went back home?"

Kurt thinks about all the texts the boy sent him on Wednesday and Thursday, and nods as the tears trickle down his cheeks.

"How do you think it makes him feel, when you ignore him? Have you thought about how he may react to your silence?" Christy asks softly and caringly. "You talked a lot together, and all of us in the staff got the impression you communicate well. There's no need for that to end just because of geography," she adds, before getting up from the chair.

Kurt still doesn't say anything, too many thoughts whirling around in his brain. He hadn't considered Blaine's feelings at all, just focusing on his own pain and feeling of losing someone precious.

"I'm not telling you to stay in touch with Blaine for his sake, but in my opinion he deserves an explanation. And I suggest you think carefully over whether you wanted the goodbye on Wednesday to be temporary or permanent."

With those words and a small smile she leaves, Kurt left with a lot to think about.

* * *

Kurt's brain is buzzing with activity, his thoughts screaming loudly and making him dizzy. He's been pondering back and fro what he really wants. He knows he doesn't want to be in all this pain. And he knows he wants to have Blaine in his life in some way or another. He realizes he'll still miss him and struggle with the distance. But maybe Blaine being in LA doesn't have to mean the end of the world as Kurt had gotten to know it the last two weeks. Maybe he could still keep his newfound friend. At least, maybe they should talk about this and find out if they wanted the same thing; Blaine's wish for a date put aside, though.

Hesitantly and nervously Kurt types out a text. The topic at hand is something that needs a real phone conversation, and can't be communicated via texts, so Kurt sends four short words to Blaine.

_Can I call you?_

He doesn't get an immediate answer, so he puts the phone away on the nightstand, and tries to read in the book Blaine left for him without choking up.

Several pages later, and he still hasn't gotten a reply. Kurt is beginning to regret the text. He shouldn't have asked something like that out of the blue, and he should have known that Blaine didn't want to deal with him anymore. It's been two days without a sound from Blaine, so clearly the boy's given up on Kurt and quit on him after Kurt's adamant and abrupt silence. And now he's made it even more awkward by requesting to talk on the phone.

Sniffing and berating himself for being so stupid, Kurt's fingers drum over the keypad to compose a second text to Blaine.

_I'm so sorry, that was really forward and rude after ignoring you for almost three days. Forget it, never mind, I won't bother you._

He places the phone to rest on his stomach, and instantly thinks about Blaine. What is he doing in LA, how is he feeling, is he ready for school again, can he sleep properly, and has he completely adjusted to the real life again?

Kurt sighs, and as he grabs for the phone he promises himself this will be the last creepy, stalkerish text he sends to Blaine.

_I just need to know you're OK, then I'll get out of your hair._

Kurt tucks the phone away in his pocket, and curls up in foetus position, willing his tears away.

Soon after, vibrations from his phone tickles his thigh, and he quickly prods it out from the tight pocket, and his heart skips at least two beats when he sees he's gotten an answer from Blaine. It turns out to be a rather long text.

_Hey, sorry I didn't hear the phone. Feel free to call me, whenever. I'm among people now, if you need a private conversation I'll let you know when I'm back home. I'm OK, trying to recharge the batteries before my exams next week._

Butterflies soar in Kurt's stomach. Blaine isn't rejecting him, or ignoring him – Blaine is opening up his arms to him, offering Kurt to call him, and giving him options. Kurt is relieved to see that Blaine is doing OK, although there's something in Blaine's tone that's a bit off, as if he's holding a bit back and being a touch too polite in the text. It stings to know that Blaine might be pretending, even the slightest, in front of Kurt.

Focusing on what he considers the most harmless contents of the text, Kurt quickly composes an answer.

_And how does Blaine recharge his batteries?_

The phone alerts him of an incoming text before he can put the device away.

_Sippin' gin and juice, Layin' underneath the palm trees, The boys break their necks, Tryin' to creep a little sneak peek._

Kurt can't help but giggle at Blaine's answer. That's the funny, witty, playful Blaine he knows and misses. He remembers him mentioning something about wanting to go for a swim in an earlier text, but he thought it had been mostly a joke.

_Did you really go swimming in December, Blaine? Are you seriously at the beach?_

It doesn't take long time for Blaine to reply, this time with a picture. He clearly recognizes Blaine, and what seems to be an unfairly good looking man has wrapped his arm around him, and is kissing his cheek. Kurt has to swallow once, twice, and he isn't disappointed or jealous, not at all, it's just a bit surprising to see Blaine that close to someone just a couple of days after he asked Kurt on a date. But Kurt already knew LA would be a better place to be for a gay guy, and he's glad Blaine has met someone. Lucky Blaine. Kurt really hopes everything will work out for the boy, his friend, but he can't help but feel some sadness as well, at his own misery and hopelessness.

Finally deciding to be a teasing buddy; the kind that would fist bump Blaine and slap him on his back while wiggling his eyebrows if he was Puck, he composes the next text with some help from Katy Perry. If memory serves him correctly, Blaine is quite fond of the artist as well, and might appreciate the quotation.

_Are you getting white sand in your stilettos? Or are you getting freaky in your jeep?_

Not even a minute later his phone is buzzing again, and Kurt grins smugly at the thought of Blaine sitting on the beach and texting him with eagerness, while the strutting fabulousness he's met has to wait for his attention.

_Gross, Kurt, that is my brother!_

Kurt's grin widens at the message. His brother. Good to know. Come to think about it, Blaine had mentioned wanting to go to the beach with his brother, and here he was. Kurt decides he needs Lady Gaga to give a proper answer for that one.

_Aww, caught in a bad romance?_

Blaine's next text makes Kurt choke on his own breath. He's even capitalized one of the words, making Kurt think this isn't just tossing fitting but random lyrics at each other, but that there may be a subtext to the text, so to say.

_I only want YOUR leather studded kiss in the sand._

Kurt whacks his brain for a suitable answer. He's game; he can participate in some harmless, flirting banter with Blaine, just for the kicks of it.

_Oh, no I do not hook up, up I go slow. So if you want me I don't come cheap. Keep your hand in my hand, And your heart on your sleeve._

Kurt sends the text, and thinks maybe they won't need to talk on the phone anyway. Maybe they've managed to go back to whatever they had just through these texts. Kurt hopes so; it would make everything so much easier if he could dodge that phone call, pretend like nothing wrong ever happened, and continue as normal as they possibly can manage.

* * *

**Lyrics from**

Mariah Carey – _Without You_

Angie Stone – _Wish I Didn't Miss You_

Katy Perry - _California Gurls_

Lady Gaga - _Bad Romance_

Kelly Clarkson - _I Do Not Hook Up_


	29. Preparations

**AN: Thank you so much to all the wonderful people who leave me such touching reviews! You cannot imagine how much it means to me. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Blaine has been in a funny mood all day. Which, to be honest, may not be so weird. He is more than familiar with mood swings, anxiety attacks, and sudden blankets of depression being draped over him. Blaine Valério Anderson is no stranger to harsh emotions. What's so peculiar about his current frame of mind is how elevated he feels.

Sure, leaving Bellefontaine is always difficult; it takes some time to adjust to new surroundings and rhythms. Going to his parents' home in LA may be even more difficult so, as he spends most of the year in school. And he expects he'll need some transition time when he returns to his dormitory and class mates later that evening too – but they still feel more like "home" and "family" than the Anderson's do.

Obviously, it had taken some time for Kurt and him to adjust as well. Blaine had tried not to feel hurt when it took time for Kurt to reply to his texts. He knows they have a schedule with program and activities in the ward, and he knows how it is to be dealing with things. Sometimes you're just not up for texting and being social. But when it had been almost three entire days without a single response from Kurt, it had both worried and hurt Blaine. He didn't know what was going on with Kurt, and he knew there was no point calling Margaret or Matthew either. The confidentiality clause makes sure nothing is told, unless you are close family. Of course. And that's a good thing, Blaine wouldn't like if anyone could randomly call and ask if he's had any more freak outs or depression spells. But when you're someone honestly and intensely worrying, it's a stupid policy.

When Blaine hasn't been caught up in concern with Kurt, he's hosted a tremendous pity party. Not completely uncalled for either, in his opinion. He'd felt rejected, ignored, tossed away for each and every minute of silence between Kurt and him. The worst part is not knowing why, not understanding what he'd done or said. The choking feeling of not being good enough is always too quick in its returns, and is one of Blaine's worst enemies. It felt like heartache, to be honest.

Coop had done his best to distract him, and for that Blaine is thankful. It's a long time since they were close as brothers, so for Cooper to reach out a hand and make an effort is appreciated. He stumbles, and sometimes he falls flat on his nose. But he always gets up with a laughter, and tries again. If Blaine hadn't been boarding, maybe they could have bonded better. But if Blaine hadn't boarded… No, this is the best solution. One and a half year left of high school, and then Blaine is headed for law or management at UCLA, before taking up the internship in San Francisco which his father has developed for him, and eventually going into business full-time. So, he has plenty of future planned out ahead of him in LA, and he can get closer to Cooper then. For now, he'll focus on completing high school and fighting his inner demons.

He checks his beloved pocket watch. It's set to Ohioan time zone, so he doesn't have to remember the three hours in difference. It's Sunday and no officially scheduled activities at Bellefontaine, and they're halfway between lunch and dinner there. Maybe Kurt is available for some texting?

He sends a simple "how are you"-text, while he wonders what Kurt is doing, and how he's coping. Have any new kids arrived? Did Kurt get to keep their room? Kurt had loved the ensuite bathroom, so Blaine hopes so. He misses Kurt, and a selfish part of him hopes Kurt misses him too. But he doesn't really believe it. The three days of silence is one proof Kurt wasn't as desperate as Blaine to have the other in their life and in their daily routines. Kurt probably had a lot of friends and family visiting as well. Maybe he's been playing more Scrabble with Jenny and Sandy. Come to think of it - did he understand what Blaine was trying to tell him with the seven Scrabble-letters?

Blaine smiles fondly at the thought of Kurt. After he'd joined them in the gym on Tuesday, he hopes he joined that specific activity on Friday as well, even though he'd avoided it thus far. Maybe they had been doing yoga, he's sure Kurt would enjoy that. Blaine has no doubt Kurt made some wonderful pastries earlier that day as well. He'd disclosed to Blaine how much he loved spending time in the kitchen, and cookies were one of his guilty pleasures. Maybe he's in the common's room now, eating leftovers from Friday's kitchen activity with the rest of the kids.

Hopefully they still have some frost and snow, and maybe they have been out on a walk this weekend. Hopefully Kurt wore more safe boots than he did on their coffee outing. Not that Blaine minded one bit to support him on the slippery surface, but of course he can't do that now, so Kurt needs to walk carefully to avoid breaking a leg. Blaine smiles as he pictures Kurt with red cheeks from the cold, the bottom half of his face covered in a soft cashmere scarf.

_How are your preparations going? Are you ready for your exams? Kurt_

Blaine grins. It's nice to have someone wondering, worrying, caring, asking. Sure, his parents will grill him about the upcoming exams during dinner later on, but Kurt has no obligations to ask, and Blaine thinks Kurt honestly wants to know.

_I'm trying to take a day away from the books today, not overheating my brain before tomorrow. Blaine_

_I understand. It's easy to strain a rarely used muscle. ;)_

That cheeky little… Blaine laughs out loud, and types so fast he has to rewrite the text twice to make it sound English.

"Such a silly grin on your face, little brother!"

Blaine squints up to his open bedroom door.

"Is my happiness offending you?" he winks.

"Not at all, Squirt. Is it loverboy?" Cooper asks, as Blaine's mobile alerts them of an incoming text again.

Blaine huffs, but his blushing hue betrays him.

"I'm glad to see you're talking again. Just, promise me one thing?"

Cooper sounds so concerned; Blaine has no choice but to give him his undivided attention.

"Close the door when you have phone sex?"

Blaine desperately wishes he had several bricks lying around in his bed, instead of the throw pillows.

* * *

Kurt is trying, he really is.

Both Margaret and Tim have gently forced him to come out of his room to spend time in the common's room. He doesn't see why. If he lays silent in the bed in his room or if he sits like a mute on the couch in the common's room – what's the difference?

Margaret had said it would be nice for him to get some new impulses, and Kurt had asked what he needed them for. Margaret had suggested he might be inspired. Tim had said they needed some more testosterone to counteract all the lady-gossiping, to which Kurt had snorted, given himself an onceover, and looked pointedly at Tim. The nurse had just shrugged, and challengingly said he was confident he'd find a conversation topic they could both participate in.

It turns out Tim's father is a car mechanic in Columbus.

For dinner, they get a real treat hospital-food-wise: Roast, with mashed potatoes and vegetables. To Kurt's surprise, he manages to stomach almost a third of his plate. For dessert they get chocolate pudding, and Kurt manages to finish a spoonful before feeling queasy.

After dinner, they are allowed to watch TV. The girls minus Izabelle beg for a marathon of _How Do I Look?_ Kurt has no strong opinions for or against it, and settles down in the couch with the book Blaine gave him. It's finally possible to read it, without tearing up. His eyes and brain get tired easily, though, so he can't read more than ten-twelve pages before he needs a break from the intense concentration.

It's those breaks that manage to capture his attention on the TV, and without realizing it he's beginning to mutter comments under his breath.

"You could totally be the next Jeannie Mai," Jenny gushes. "But please, make a male version of it. So many men don't know how to dress, and we girls like to watch something appealing."

"Tell me about it," Kurt shivers, and thinks about the numerous fashion faux pas' walking down the hallways of McKinley. "Look at that ma, for instance. How dare he enter his little sister and mock her wardrobe, when he is aware of being on TV and still wears beige jeans and that shirt making his skin look dead? And for the love of anything beautiful, give him a mirror. If you're going to wear the blazer unbuttoned, please don't wear one revealing you have at least eight inches too much waist to be able to button it."

"I try to coach my boyfriend into wearing something more fashionable, and it makes me feel so vain," Sandy sighs. "But I'm just so tired of constantly seeing those baggy jeans and plaid oversized flannel shirts."

"Add the hat, and you have your own personal lumberjack," Jenny giggles.

"Girl, there's nothing wrong with wanting your boyfriend to dress decent. After all, you're the one who have to expose your eyes to such monstrosities," Kurt concurs.

"Yeah, and if he needs an incentive, let him know it's far more fun if you get to undress pretty clothes," Jenny winks.

Both Sandy and Kurt blush at that comment.

"It's true," Jenny shrugs unfazed, winking at them.

* * *

It's close to bedtime, or at least the hour when Margaret and Tim suggest they go to bed. Kurt's inner clock is fairly confused and out of order after the last week, but he's promised to try. He doesn't feel as exhausted as he was, with the need to sleep 24/7, although he's more than tired after spending several hours with company.

Kurt has stepped out of the bathroom after a long and hot shower, and is slowly being lulled into a sleepy state, and he's actually looking forward to curling up in bed.

Out of habit, he checks the phone on the bedside table. He'd been texting excessively with Blaine earlier that day, but then the other boy had excused himself to have dinner with his family. Well, they've been texting excessively since Blaine was at the beach and they started throwing Katy Perry and Lady Gaga-lyrics at each other. Blaine hadn't mentioned Kurt's request to call him, and Kurt chose to ignore himself. He doesn't quite know what to say anymore, anyway. Initially, he'd wanted to apologize and see how the boy was doing, explain his absence and silence. But now… He knows how Blaine is doing, and it seems as if their friendly banter is back to where it was, even if it is by text and not face to face. So, why poke the potential beehive? Besides, Kurt feels humiliated by how low he could go, and doesn't want to investigate it any further than having difficulties with changes and missing a friend.

He has one missed call, almost 20 minutes ago, from Blaine. Then a text right after, from the same one.

_I'm sorry if I disturbed you, I guess it's later than I realized. I just wanted to wish you a good night. So. Sweet dreams!_

Kurt glares at the phone with suspicion. Blaine's never called him before. Not to say good night, not to say good morning, not to anything. Not ever.

His thumb hits the call-button before it's a conscious decision. It takes a maximum of five seconds for Blaine to answer.

"Kurt?" he exhales with so much wonder in his voice, as if he can't believe it's him, even though he clearly must have caught a glimpse of the caller-ID before answering.

"Hi Blaine," Kurt says softly, and curls up in bed, deep under the covers. He doesn't want to lose the warm and nice feeling he got from the shower.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up!" Blaine rushes out.

"You didn't," Kurt hurriedly interrupts. "I was in the shower."

"Oh." Kurt can hear Blaine's breathe into the microphone. "Do you still have the same room?"

Kurt hums to hide a yawn.

"Good. That's good. You do like that bathroom," he chuckles.

"I do," Kurt agrees airily. "So, are we going to dwell on the luxury of having a private bathroom, or are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Blaine splutters. "Why do you think anything's wrong?"

"Blaine," Kurt says firmly. "You've never called me before. Maybe I should be flattered, but I don't believe for one second you only called for polite greetings."

"Is this weird?" Blaine asks hesitantly.

"What should be weird?" Kurt blinks several times in confusion.

"Us talking on the phone…"

"It's not weird; I like it. Now stop deflecting, and tell me how you are."

"Pushy!"

Kurt forces his lips tight together, but giggles escape down the phone line. Blaine makes a confused sound.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you just made me remember something funny. Something embarrassing. But funny. I think."

"That doesn't make me the least curious," Blaine drawls.

"If I tell, do you promise to say what's bothering you afterwards?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Hummel," Blaine quips.

"And?"

"OK," he sighs. "Bring your best."

"So, imagine yours truly as a young, inexperienced sophomore. His five Glee-friends and he wanted to recruit more members, so during this school assembly we got our few minutes of spotlight."

Kurt tells Blaine about how they had performed _Push It_, the singing and dancing, and the reactions they got from both the students and teachers. Even though a lot of people had liked it, it didn't make them more popular, though. But, they got three new members out of it, although it mostly was because the cheerleaders were jealous control freaks who needed to monitor Quinn's boyfriend.

He can hear Blaine swallow heavily before he answers.

"Wow. Just… Wow! Your director really let you do that in front of the entire school?"

"Pssh, please, he didn't know anything about it. We hijacked the performance, thought we knew better than him… Now, spill, what's bugging you?"

"I hate your memory and attention span," Blaine mutters.

"Yeah, well, some things are worth remembering," Kurt answers without thinking.

They are both silent for a beat or two.

"Anyway, about your day…"

"So I was thinking…"

They talk simultaneously, both interrupting the other, before laughter overtakes them.

"I guess I better uphold my end of the deal," Blaine eventually says.

"That would be nice," Kurt agrees.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I called. I guess I just needed to talk with someone… _friendly_."

Kurt doesn't say anything, but lets Blaine rant and find the words in his own pace.

"I've been in my parents' house since Wednesday, but am back in school now. My exams start tomorrow… And I… I just don't want to disappoint my dad, you know?"

Kurt hums to show he's listening, and wonders if Blaine's father has said anything to upset the boy. From what he's told before, his father isn't the most sympathetic guy, and has a fairly strict plan laid out for his son. Kurt's gotten the impression his parents push and push, and are never satisfied with his son's efforts and achievements, always pointing at rooms for improvement.

"I'm so nervous, Kurt…"

"Oh Blaine… This is your junior year, you still have plenty of time to ace your exams; this isn't the end of the world. And your parents have to remember that you've been here, you can't be expected to be as prepared as the other students."

"They don't even understand why I've been to Bellefontaine," he scoffs. "They don't acknowledge that I'm sick. They think this is just me being lazy and obstinate."

Kurt gasps.

"Blaine…"

The boy repeats some of the things his father had lectured him during dinner, and Kurt has to fight back tears. Blaine, however, has lost his battle, and Kurt can hear him sniffing, imagines tears are trickling down his face.

"Blaine. Blaine, honey, listen to me, OK?" Kurt waits for a moment, until the other boy is breathing more calmly. "None of the things your father says are true. You are smart, you are driven, you work hard, you'll get far, and you can get further than to the finish line your father has set up for you. I don't recognize any of the things he says to you. You. Are. Perfect. Just the way you are. Do you hear me?"

Blaine chuckles, and starts humming the P!nk-song they sang together earlier in the ward.

"Don't you ever forget that, OK?"

"It goes for you too, you know," Blaine says softly, interrupted by his own yawn.

Kurt pretends he doesn't hear him.

"Blaine… Can… Can I sing a song? To you?"

"Kurt…" the other boy whispers with so much reverence, as if he can't believe Kurt is asking him that question.

Kurt can't blame him, he's surprised even himself. He knows what he's told Blaine about singing, but he is desperate to make the other boy feel better.

"I… I want you to close your eyes. And listen. Just listen. And if you happen to fall asleep, that's OK. That's good," Kurt stutters.

"Thank you so much, Kurt!"

"I haven't sung anything yet."

"I know it'll be perfect."

"Oh… Well, anyway, good luck tomorrow, and sweet dreams. Or I'll talk to you afterwards. Depending on if you fall asleep or not, you know."

"Your rambling is adorable," Blaine laughs teasingly. "Now, lullaby me. And good night, Kurt."

Kurt takes a deep breath, before he starts singing the slow, low, mellow, but yet hopeful part of a mash-up he did with Rachel two years ago.

"_Forget your troubles. Come on get happy. You better chase all your cares away. Shout hallelujah. Come on get happy. Get ready for the judgment day._"

Kurt isn't particularly fond of religious songs, obviously, but he hopes Blaine can take it for the sentiment he wants to give off.

He can't resist adding the ending of the duet as Rachel and he did it.

"_Happy times, happy nights, happy days are here again!"_

He finishes the song, and all he can hear is the soft sounds of Blaine breathing.

"Blaine?" he whispers carefully, not wanting to rouse the boy.

Nothing.

He smiles fondly, and ends the call.

* * *

Next morning, Kurt wakes up to a text from Blaine.

_I love Judy Garland._

Kurt snickers as he types out a reply.

_I'm glad you do, Gene Kelly._

Blaine is busy with his first exam that day, so it isn't until much later Kurt gets a reply. A text that makes him blush far below his belt.

_I'm glad I met you. You wonderful you. I can't forget you. You wonderful you. So glad I found you. You wonderful you. Remember Finders' keepers Loosers weepers. And because it's true. You're mine now. You wonderful you._

* * *

The week is difficult.

It is straining and tiring to be back in school, for Blaine. He isn't used to that much mental activity for such a long period of time, and he feels completely drained after each exam. He always sleeps for a couple of hours, before calling Kurt to get his mind on something else. They talk about their days, and sometimes one of them needs to cry a little, and sometimes one of them is all giddy and giggly. Sometimes one of them – or rather both – are exhausted, and just needs a distraction. So they talk about music, Broadway, LGBT politics, friends, fashion. They share silly knock knock-jokes, Kurt helps Blaine prepare for his French exam over the phone, and they challenge each other to find the best example of exactly _how_ annoying Sarah can be.

One night, Blaine falls asleep during their conversation again. One evening, he's too upset to be able to talk, and they end up texting for a couple of hours instead. One evening, it's Kurt who can't, or rather, won't, talk.

Talking with Kurt is a wonderful distraction, but as soon as they hang up, Blaine is back to worrying about how he did on his exam that day, worrying about how he'll do on the exam tomorrow, worrying about when he'll get the results back, and worrying about telling his parents how it went.

His friends try to cheer him up and keep him busy, but he's just so tired after the exam, he mostly wants to sit alone in his room. It's overwhelming to be back in school, among bustling, boisterous boys. Thankfully, he has the best friends in the world, and they cancel the welcome back-party they usually throw for him. Instead, his closest friends order a bunch of pizzas, pop endless amounts of pop corn, and sit down for a _Harry Potter_ marathon, beginning as soon as they've handed in their exam on Friday, and lasting the entire weekend.

No matter how occupied they try to keep him, and no matter how much he worries, his thoughts still stray to Kurt now and then. It's good to know the boy is only a text away, when the need to be with his new friend is too strong. Kurt doesn't always reply immediately, which Blaine understands – they have programs, activities and appointments at Bellefontaine. They have meals to eat, and Kurt had told he sometimes naps during the day. So, no, he doesn't always reply at once, but he always replies. And Blaine loves how he is slowly beginning to trust Kurt to not abandon him again, trust the friendship they have, and ultimately feeling good enough, for once.

* * *

The week is difficult.

The staff is notoriously encouraging and challenging Kurt to push his own boundaries. They use care and cleverness to help him back on his feet.

He has to sit through some difficult conversations with doctor Whimchester. First, he's just numb, and listens half heartedly to what the man has to say, and refuses to answer his questions. Eventually, the doctor manages to hit the right buttons, which makes Kurt open up and answer. It also opens up his tear ducts. Thomas is always there to pick his pieces up and help him glue himself back together. It's like a bad cop good cop-routine. Doctor Whimchester asks all the touchy questions, and Thomas comforts him. Doctor Whimchester challenges him with difficult questions, and Thomas supports him and helps his stumbling search for the words.

Later in the week, Kurt is fed up with crying, and he gets angry during the therapy sessions. He throws hissy fits, he yells, and just wants to sling something breakable to the wall. He curses Karofsky up and down, before dissolving in tears and realizing he actually feels somewhat sorry for the closeted jerk. Then his anger is directed at McKinley, at the administration, at the teachers, at everybody who let everything pass and happen in the school hallways. He paints colourful descriptions of the "hell hole", and both doctor Whimchester and Thomas let him vent, let him rant, let him get it all out of the system. His main emotion has for such a long time been fear. Finally, he's safe enough to let some of the anger take over the dominant position.

On Tuesday, Kurt's father comes to visit again. They talk for an hour in Kurt's room. Mostly, Burt updates his son on the garage, on Carole, on Finn, on neighbourhood gossip, and whatever Glee gossip he's been able to catch. He doesn't ask Kurt any deep questions; he's just there for him, showing him he's loved. Right then, that's everything Kurt needs. Someone's presence to be silent with, someone's presence to just be with. No expectations, no demands, no requirements.

Finally, Burt has to leave, saying he has an appointment with doctor Whimchester, and Kurt snarkily asks if his coocoo head is contagious.

On Wednesday, Blaine asks if he's had any coffee lately, and Kurt has to admit he hasn't been brave enough.

* * *

Friday, Burt is back. Kurt is beginning to feel guilty for all the hours his father must be away from the garage, just to be able to visit him during the day. The drive alone is two hours. His father tells him not to worry, that the importance of his son can't compare to that of the garage, they aren't even competing in the same league. If Kurt is NFL, his garage is the little league. Kurt thinks he gets what his father is trying to say.

Instead of sitting in the conversation room, Kurt shakily suggests they go outside. He'd mentioned Blaine's loyalty cards to doctor Whimchester, and the man had encouraged Kurt to seek out one of the coffee shops. As long as he told someone in the staff where he went and when he'd be back, he would be allowed to leave the ward unaccompanied. The doctor obviously thought he was giving Kurt a gift. Kurt thought he was given a curse. But going with his father would hopefully make for a smoother transition back to the real world.

Burt admits he almost gets dizzy from all the options the barista offers, and don't they have just coffee? Kurt doesn't want to hear him utter the words "medium drip", so he orders him a decaf. Because, seriously; with his heart, he can choose between that and green tea. So Burt accepts the wannabe-coffee.

They sit down by a secluded table, with their coffees and a plate of cookies Burt sneakily managed to order. For a while they continue the conversation they held on their walk to the coffee shop, with the usual updates. Not that much has happened in the two days since Burt's last visit, but the conversation flows fairly easily.

"Have you thought about coming home?"

Kurt watches his father guardedly. Just a couple of days ago, Blaine and he had talked about Christmas and childhood memories. Kurt had for a fleeting moment wondered how Christmas at the ward would be. It's less than two weeks left.

"No," he answers. "It's not up to me."

"Would you be opposed to coming home, if given the alternative?"

Kurt continues to watch his father, hesitantly, searchingly, trying to figure him out.

"Who have you been talking with?"

"The doc," Burt answers calmly. "We discussed discharge and further therapy when I met with him the other day."

"Shouldn't I have been part of that discussion?" Kurt bites, feeling treated like a child.

"And what do you think this is?" Burt sighs, but stays calm. "We haven't decided anything, and now's your chance to tell us what you'd prefer."

"I'm not ready to go back to McKinley," Kurt says warningly.

"I know. I'm not ready to let you go back either. We'll see after Christmas. Let me deal with that, for now we're talking about you coming home, to your family. Nothing more."

"But I'm not… I'm still…"

"They're not supposed to fix you completely, son. It'll take time; a depression isn't something you just shake off of you."

"So I just have to wait and see if things get better?"

Kurt is both confused and hurt; he was hoping it would be easier than this. He's not a very patient boy.

"Kurt, listen. Doctor Whimchester thinks you are ready to go home, and we are prepared to help you with whatever he suggests. He'll suggest seeing a psychiatrist as often as you need to digest the real world, but he also thinks it's important you start getting back to the real world. You're sheltered here, you know."

Kurt nods. He does know.

"So… If I go home with you now, I don't have to go back to McKinley on Monday? And I'll still have someone from Bellefontaine helping me?"

The thought of losing the therapy he's gotten from the staff, makes him realize how valuable and helpful it really has been to him.

"You need time, Kurt. Besides, it can't be much more than a week left of school before your winter break. Forget about McKinley." Burt reaches out a hand to take Kurt's, and squeezes it comfortingly. "You don't have to come home with me today. Let the idea buzz in your head, get used to it, and we'll see how you feel about it in a couple of days. The doc thinks you're ready, but you have to realize that you still have to fight this battle on the outside. Can you do that?"

Kurt lays his hand on top of his fathers.

"I'll talk with them. About this," he says, and nods his head in the assumed direction of where the ward is.

* * *

That night finds Kurt awake way past midnight. His father has given him a lot to think about.

_Are you awake? _

He texts Blaine, although he doesn't expect an answer. It should be close to ten PM in LA now.

_I am. HP marathon with the guys. He's just started writing in the diary with Tom Riddle :) Why are YOU up?_

Kurt chuckles at the thought of his geeky friend, and replies.

_Just thinking._

_Aww. About me?_

_You wish…_

_Hey, you're the one that texted me. So. What's new?_

Kurt starts composing a text, but realizes it's too difficult, and he needs too many words.

_Can I call you?_

Two minutes later, Blaine calls him.

"Hey, sorry, I had to find somewhere quiet."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Harrython…"

"Don't be silly, I've seen those movies more times than I'd care to admit. How are you, Kurt?" he asks, and his voice is so compassionate, and so soft, and so velvety, and so honestly caring, and Kurt just wants to drown in him and let Blaine help him with everything difficult.

"How was it to go home, after the first time you were here?"

"Have they mentioned discharging you?"

Kurt nods.

"Are you nodding?" Blaine asks, obviously amused.

"Oh," Kurt blushes, "yeah."

"What worries you?"

"Everything?" Kurt answers, and he's so glad Blaine doesn't laugh at him.

"That's quite an order to help you with."

"Amateur," Kurt scoffs, making Blaine giggle. "I guess I'm worried about how people will act around me, how they'll look at me, you know?"

"Oh Kurt," Blaine says tenderly. "That I get."

"How was that for you?" Kurt whispers, afraid to ask such a personal question.

"I transferred school straight out of Bellefontaine, so nobody knew me, and I could paint my own story. I didn't have to reveal anything until I trusted my new friends."

"Did you maintain contact with any of your old school friends?"

"No," Blaine snaps, and Kurt realizes this must have something to do with the beating Blaine had told him about, the Sadie Hawkins-dance.

"Do people treat you differently whenever you come back to school?" he asks, hoping to lessen the tension he ca feel seeping through the phone.

"Not deliberately, I think," Blaine answers hesitantly. "My closest friends are a mean pack of mother hens, but they don't treat me like a fragile egg. Although they do try to tune in on my needs whenever I come back, like now."

"They seem great," Kurt smiles, glad to know Blaine has good friends during the day, when he obviously has to go home to a less supportive and accepting family. "What about the other students?"

"Umm… My best friends are kind of popular in school, so I think that gives me some status and protection, you know?"

_Oh… _Kurt can't really say that's something familiar he can hope to achieve at McKinley. Rather, he can readily imagine all the new taunts and nicknames they'll come up with for him. One has to admire the creativity of the jocks…

"Kurt… Your family and some of your friends have visited you, and that seemed to go OK. Don't you think it'll be the same when you're home?"

Kurt swallows, once more, wishing he had a glass of water close by.

"I guess…"

"Remind Thomas to make a transfer-plan for you, that'll help. If you go home with a ready plan and appointments, it'll be easier. If you already have some shape of your upcoming days, you aren't left to the mercy of your own initiatives and efforts."

"Thank you, Blaine," Kurt says sweetly.

"Don't mention it, Silly."

"I'll let you get back to enjoy the Basilisk."

Blaine laughs out loud.

"Kurt Hummel, was that a dirty joke?" he hisses, probably clutching his stomach from laughter, Kurt can only imagine.

"Blaine…" Kurt groans.

"Oh, oh, I know that one – you're Moaning Myrtle," Blaine giggles.

"Well, wanna Slytherin?" Kurt asks, biting his lower lip and hoping Blaine's reaction won't kill him from embarrassment.

"Save a broom; ride a Quidditch player," Blaine grins.

"'Cause you're such a Keeper, aren't you, baby?" Kurt drawls.

"Oh, you know it," Blaine says, putting on a rich southern accent, and Kurt thinks he can hear him snap a sassy Z.

"Hey Blaine? Thanks for being my friend."

"Thank _you_ for being _my_ friend."

* * *

Saturday morning, Kurt wakes up feeling strangely calm. Last night's conversation with Blaine had been comforting and reassuring, even though their transferring-back-to-the-real-world-situations can't be compared at all.

His phone must have been busy all night, because he has several new texts. He gets comfortable under the covers again, enjoying that last post-sleep drowsiness and heat, before Margaret or Tim surely will remind him of breakfast.

The two first texts are from Blaine, with some quotes making Kurt believe they managed to finish _The Prisoner of Azkaban _before they went to bed. He answers with a couple of other, fitting quotes from the movies.

The third is from Finn, asking if he can borrow clean socks. He wants to reply something snarky about borrowing dirty socks, but ends up with a quick "Sure".

The fourth text is from Tina, asking if she can come visiting again. He'll have to ask someone from the staff before he can answer that one.

* * *

Later that day finds Kurt pacing restlessly in front of a coffee shop. He has a loyalty card in his back pocket, and will claim his free coffee. Unfortunately, he miscalculated how long it would take to walk from the ward, so he was ten minutes early and waits impatiently for Tina.

He doesn't like standing idle on the pavement, without anything to do. He would prefer to be in motion, be on his way, constantly being somewhere else than where he is. Staying in one place is dangerous. It draws attention, it makes him noticeable, and someone taking offence can act on it.

He wrings his hands, and his eyes dart in every direction. He knows he must look like a lunatic, but he just doesn't feel comfortable. He can't go inside to wait either, as Tina was afraid she wouldn't find the place in a strange city, so he'd promised to wait outside.

A hand touches his elbow from behind, and he jumps in the air.

"I'm sorry, Kurt", Tina apologizes, and he smiles reassuringly at her.

"It's OK, you just startled me."

She looks at him for a moment, and nods.

"Shall we?" she asks and gestures at the door to the coffee shop next to them.

After ordering their coffees, where Kurt again pays for his with one of the loyalty cards he got from Blaine, they sit down by a table. Kurt had wanted to sit more secluded in a corner, but that table was occupied by someone working franticly on a laptop. That's the only reasons he's sitting in the middle of the room. He made sure to sit down with his face towards the door, though, so he can remain some sense of control.

"It's really sweet of you to come all the way out here," he says softly, but she waves him off.

"Of course I'll come visit you. You're my friend," she says easily. "So, how are you?"

"I'm… better," he concludes after thinking for a while. "I had some rough days, but all in all I feel better now."

"I'm glad," she smiles softly, and takes his hand on the table. "Do you know how long you'll be staying?"

Kurt smiles crookedly, scrunching up his nose.

"Actually, they've talked about discharging me soon."

"How do you feel about that?" she asks casually, and Kurt could kiss her for not jumping to conclusions.

"I'm scared," he admits. "Nothing's really changed, you know." He looks pleadingly at her, wanting her to understand what he's talking about, without having to mention _him_ or anything else.

"It'll be fine," Tina tries to reassure him. "Mike and the other guys say they've got your back. They'll protect you, and act as your security guards."

"Although it could be fun to dress them up in matching black button ups and dark aviators, I don't see how it'll work. I'll be on my own sooner or later. And I…" he sighs frustrated. "I just want to be free, you know? Carefree and relaxed, not having to worry or being circled by bodyguards."

"I understand," Tina says intently, squeezing his hand.

"Do you, now?" he snaps, and yanks his hand loose.

Sure, everybody in Glee got slushied and taunted. But can they really understand what _he_ went through?

"I may not understand the details. But I do know how it is to walk down the hallways with everybody starring, you know? Because of the clothes I wear, because the girls are jealous of a nobody like me dating Mike the footballer. It would be nice to be left alone, for once."

They smile sadly at each other, both thinking about the time they performed _Bad Romance_.

"Does Figgins still think you're a vampire?"

"Let's just say I haven't done much to clear up the misunderstanding," she grins wickedly, and he laughs out loud.

Startled, he slams a hand in front of his mouth, and throws quick glances around the coffee shop.

"It's OK, you know. You're allowed to laugh and be here."

He shakes his head. For so long he's been beaten down purely for existing, and even though he tried to become invisible, it didn't help. It's difficult to feel comfortable about taking space and risk getting someone's attention. He never knows if that attention will be good or bad.

* * *

He promised to be back in the ward within two hours, so he bid farewell to Tina in due time and walked back. He had tried to keep his pulse regular on the walk, but it was difficult. It's been so long since he's been outside, not to mention out in the streets on his own. He ended up calling Blaine, pretending to be curious about the current status of their Harrython, but Blaine had seen right through it.

"You only want me for my distracting capacities," he'd sassed, making Kurt giggle.

"You know me so well, Anderson," he'd smirked back, and just like that they had continued their easy banter until Kurt was back in his room at the ward.

Later that evening, Thomas sat down with Kurt to plan out what he could do to make the transition out of the ward easier.

"Are you good at sticking to plans?" he'd asked.

"Usually," Kurt had replied hesitantly, knowing he's not in the same persistent state of mind as he used to be.

"I want us to make a plan for the first seven days you're back home. I want us to find something you promise to do, at least one bullet point per day. It'll help you get out of bed and get out of the house. To fight against your depression, it's important that you get back in the everyday saddle. You have to push yourself a bit, get out and experience things."

"You make it sound so easy to get sane again," Kurt had chuckled, self-patronisingly.

"Doesn't it?" Thomas had snickered. "But I'm serious. Therapy is all good, but you need to do an active effort as well. It'll be difficult, but if we have this plan, at least you don't have to use any energy figuring out what to do, it'll help you ease into a pattern."

So they had sat down and made a plan for his return to Lima. Go to the Lima Bean one day. Christmas gift shopping another day. Go to the movies a third day. And so on. He didn't even have to do it alone; Thomas encouraged him to spend time with friends.

"You'll continue your therapy, so you'll always have someone to talk to. And doctor Whimchester has talked to your family, so they know what to prepare and how to help you. You'll do great," Thomas had promised.

Kurt wasn't so sure, though.

He still isn't sure, lying in his bed and starring at the ceiling. He's nervous. It's frightening as hell. He doesn't know what to expect at all, and that scares the living daylight out of him. He doesn't know how his friends will act, he doesn't have much experience living with Carole and Finn, he doesn't know how his father really his doing and how this has affected his heart, and he can't stop worrying about school.

Different scenarios about everything that can go wrong keep pestering his mind, until he finally falls asleep.

* * *

Sunday is a lazy Sunday.

And Kurt is going to make it. He's going to leave the ward, all alone, find the last coffee shop where he can get a free drink with the loyalty card, sit there for an hour with a book, all alone, and walk back to the ward. He can do it.

Soon.

He keeps giving himself pep-talks, but sadly that's not one of his stronger sides. Tim notices how he's muttering to himself, though, and sits down next to him on the couch.

"You want me to sing _Gonna Fly Now_ for you?"

"Huh?"

"You know… Na naa nanana na na na na na" Tim starts humming.

Kurt can't help but smile as it dawns on him which song Tim is giving to him – the Rocky theme.

"Thank you," he says and shakes his head from laughter.

"Anytime," Tim grins and offers a fist.

Kurt rolls his eyes and bumps the fist with his own, and sends a fleeting thought to Finn.

"So, what are you waiting for?" Tim asks, almost shooing him out.

"Hey!" Kurt objects indignantly. "I'm not ready!"

"You're never going to feel ready, so you might just as well jump to it."

Kurt mutters something unintelligible, but glares playfully at the nurse.

"Let me get my stuff from my room first," he relents, and drags his feet across the room to pick up his book, wallet and phone.

"Godspeed!" Tim greets cheekily as Kurt leaves, and a part of him wants to flip the man off, but in the last second he decides he's better than that.

Kurt's clutching the book to his chest with both hands, and walks stiffly down the pavement. For some reason, it feels more daunting today than yesterday, when he knew he'd be meeting up with Tina. Today, he's all on his own, and it makes him feel really lonely. Unprotected. Exposed. Glowingly visible.

His head is downcast, and he tries telling himself it is to better see where he's putting his feet, but the pavement is bare and safe. It's the faces of the passerby's he tries to avoid.

He ends up in the wrong street at the first attempt. He isn't familiar with this place at all, and was trying to follow Tim's instructions from earlier. He looks around him to orient himself, and when he spots the big mall two blocks away he knows where he went wrong. Luckily. He wouldn't like to get lost. Of course he could call the ward to have someone help him. Or he could ask a stranger. But he'd like to avoid pulling attention to himself, and he'd like to not show any sign of vulnerability.

Startled, Kurt realizes this must be how Blaine feels all the time when he's outside, and his daily outings make perfectly sense. Kurt's never been afraid of going outside before, and has always been able to hold his own, but after almost three weeks in the ward, he's a bit jumpy. He really hopes it'll pass. Being petrified in school is more than enough.

Finally, he's in the right place. He walks in, and is glad to see it's not too crowded on this Sunday afternoon. There's only a couple before him in the queue, and several tables are available for him to sit down by.

Soon after, he's pierced in a corner with his grande non-fat mocha and a tempting piece of raspberry cheese cake. So sue him, why shouldn't he get to enjoy some comfort food when he's doing something scary. Hopefully his hesitance to have a coffee in public will vanish quickly, or he'll get fat. The Discworld-book is resting next to the plate.

On impulse, he snaps a picture of the items on the table, and sends it to Blaine, with the caption _Thank you for a great treat ;)_

Kurt has read exactly five pages and enjoyed one rich spoonful of cake when he gets the reply.

_You're very welcome. Although I can't remember anything about making a cake. How peculiar._

_No, that was my added touch. I would offer you a slice, but…_

_You can make it up to me the next time I see you._

_Deal. :)_

Kurt sighs sadly. He would never hesitate to whip together a delicious cake for Blaine, but he doubts he'll ever get to see him again.

Kurt takes his time to finish the cake, while reading the book and nursing his coffee. He's anxiously paying attention to his phone as well, hoping time will go by quicker, so he can allow himself to get up and leave.

For every person entering the coffee shop, he quickly glances up to see. It's not like he knows anyone in Bellefontaine, neither friendly persons nor bullies, he just likes to keep control of his surroundings. Eventually, the book captivates him enough to distract him, though, and he forgets about keeping his guard that much up. The next time he checks his phone, he realizes he's been in the coffee house for one and a half hour. He savours the last piece of cake, letting it melt in his mouth, and fill him with all the tastes. He throws away the coffee cup, tucks the book firmly under his arm, and leaves the place with a light heart. He survived this, too. Maybe surviving isn't the worst a person can experience.

* * *

**Songs mentioned/lyrics from:**

P!nk – _Perfect_

Judy Garland – _Get Happy_

Barbra Streisand – _Happy Days Are Here Again_

Judy Garland & Gene Kelly – _You Wonderful You_

Bill Conti – _Gonna Fly Now_


	30. Home Sweet Home

**AN: I'm so, so sorry for this delayed update! I had a really big evaluation this weekend I had to prepare for. I thought I would be able to write on my fics in between, but I've been completely drained by my cramming and pulling-my-own-hair-suffering over the books. So it took forever, and then some, to get this chapter complete. But, it's three months until my next evaluation, so I will be writing a lot in here again now. I've been missing the boys and my stories.**

**Thank you to everybody for staying faithful and patiently with me and my story - I'm so grateful for all my readers, and the kind people who leave me reviews and encouragement to write and continue to write.**

**I hope this chapter is worth the wait.**

**OBS! I haven't seen anything from season 4 yet, so PLEASE NO SPOILERS in reviews or PMs! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Monday after dinner Burt Hummel shows up at the emergency psychiatric ward for youth in Bellefontaine. He's there to bring his son Kurt home, after he's been staying for almost three weeks after a failed suicide attempt.

Burt can't wait to get his son home.

But he's nervous as hell too.

He feels guilty for not recognizing the red flags, not reading the warning signals, not realising how troubled and struggling his own son was. He's afraid of repeating his mistakes, and putting his son in jeopardy. But he wants to complete his family, he wants to have his own blood under his own roof, and a part of him can't quite relax with Kurt under the care of someone else.

Sure, he has no experience in that profession, and he sure ain't naïve enough to think that Carole's position as a nurse will be enough. She doesn't know Kurt all that well, and she isn't a psychiatric nurse. But she's used to taking care of patients, reading people, and see people with damages on their minds.

And Burt, he'll sleep with one eye open, looking after his son and make sure he'll never end up so low again.

He's had several conversations with doctor Whimchester since Kurt agreed to being discharged and taken home. Burt had wondered if they should "child proof" the house and remove anything Kurt could use to harm himself. The doctor had reassured him that although Kurt had been suicidal, he was no cutter or self harmer. Besides, if someone was desperate enough, they would always find the means. It sure as hell ain't a comforting thought, but it's a reality check Mr. Hummel needs.

Burt watches how his son bids farewell to patients and staff. Most of them are offered a tight lipped smile and a handshake, but Thomas gets a full on hug. Burt can see Kurt is tensed, nervous. They'll have to figure this out together.

His son slings the satchel over his shoulder, and picks up a dried flower bouquet from his bed. Burt takes his bags, after Kurt protesting and reminding him of his heart. Doesn't the kid know he lifts heavier tools and engine parts at work every day? He lets a hand rest on his son's shoulder as they leave the door. Kurt turns around, looking down the hallway to the common's room, before he waves and smiles timidly at Thomas standing by the door, and they walk down the steps.

The walk to the public parking lot is mostly quiet. The only thing that can be heard is the crunching of their shoes for each step they take in the new snow. Burt wonders if his son can hear his father's heart as clearly as he can.

They get settled in the car, and begin the hour long drive back home. From the corner of his eyes, Burt notices his son is texting. He seems to be smiling somewhat brighter.

"Good news?" Burt asks casually.

"Just Blaine wishing me good luck in the real world," Kurt explains, and Burt is relieved to see his son being that open and communicating with him.

"That's nice of him. He was your roommate, right?"

Kurt hums an affirmative, and Burt has to swallow heavily. It's been a long time since he's heard any sound coming out of his son that could even barely reminisce of song or music. It's like angels singing to hear him produce other sounds than mellow one-syllabic words.

"He was. He left almost two weeks ago."

"Where does he live again?"

"LA", Kurt sighs, and Burt is sad to hear that. He'd hoped they could remain friends, meet up, and help each other. Shared backgrounds, shared experiences, and all that.

"It's a good thing you have your phone, then. And that talking program on your computer. Spotify?"

"I think you mean Skype, dad," Kurt giggles, and isn't that just the most beautiful sound?

"Well, it was something beginning with an S," he grunts.

They don't talk much for the rest of the ride, but that's OK. At least Kurt is talking when addressed, and doesn't seem too unwillingly to do so either. It makes Burt feel a million pounds lighter. He's well aware that Kurt still will have good days and bad days. But it's nice to see him having a good day. God knows it's been forever since he last had one.

Burt Hummel knows doctor Whimchester and Thomas have spent most of the day preparing Kurt for what's to come, having conversations, making plans, solving some questions, helping him with the transition.

But, as is already stated, Hummel's aren't naïve. Burt appreciates every single thing the wonderful staff at the ward has done for his son, but he doesn't expect things to be easy, though. This is still the beginning.

He remembers when Elizabeth got sick. He knew he would lose his wife. He knew his son would lose his mother. They knew, they had time, they could prepare. But nothing can prepare you for big changes like that. Nobody has the needed crystal ball. Nobody has the necessary imagination. Nobody can help Kurt completely with this transfer from the ward to the real world. Just like when Elizabeth passed away, they'll have to make their own path through to the other end, hoping the journey won't prove too hard.

And then, eventually, they'll have to tackle the school issue as well. But not yet. He doesn't want to dump more than he has to in his son's lap. He'll give Kurt time to adjust before he considers adding more. Doesn't mean he ain't gonna prepare and do his research, though. He'll see the coaches Sylvester and Beiste later this week. Nobody pushes the Hummel's around, and no son of his is going back to how McKinley has been so far. There has to be changes.

Unfortunately, the younger Hummel has never been good with changes. He may think Burt doesn't see it, but Burt knows. Burt knows how important control is to Kurt, especially when there's so much around him out of control, and more control is constantly being taken away from him. Burt doesn't want to undermine his son, but he also wants what's best for him. He wants his son to gain confidence and be in control of his own life. Doctor Whimchester had told Burt the suicide attempt was a logical step for Kurt. His own existence was perhaps the last thing Kurt felt in control of, within his choking blanket of depressing.

Burt shudders, and forces his mind clear. He has to pay attention to the road; he'll continue all this pondering later. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Kurt looking at him. He turns around and smiles at him, and pats his knee.

"You're doing good, kiddo."

* * *

"Sweetheart, they just pulled up the driveway; are you ready?"

"I'm coming!" Finn yells back, and hurries up the stairs.

"Did you finish cleaning up your room?" Carole asks sternly, fixing her eyes on her son.

"Of course, mom, I've spent the entire weekend getting the room ready for Kurt."

Carole smiles at her eager son. She had checked the room a couple of hours ago, while changing the sheets on Kurt's bed and making his half of the room ready. Finn's half had looked decent, and she trusts him not to have messed it up in the relatively short amount of time's that been since then.

She can hear the slams of two car doors being closed, and takes a deep breathe to steady herself. This will be rough, this will be difficult, this will be emotional. But she loves Burt, and can feel how easy it will be to love Kurt as her own son. They haven't had much time to get to know each other and getting used to living together, but he's a wonderful boy with his heart in the right place, even though his heart isn't beating for the right reasons at the moment.

As soon as the door opens, she takes a step ahead to greet the two Hummel's, but is pushed aside by her own son.

"Kurt!" he beams loudly, and embraces the boy.

He picks up Kurt and spins him around. Carole expects Kurt to scold Finn and demand to be put down, but he actually just smiles, and she can see his shoulders shake. She steps up to save a bouquet of dried flowers from Kurt's hands, before they are smashed by her son's eager clumsiness.

"Welcome home, honey," she greets, and gives him a half hug while still in Finn's arms.

"Thank you, Carole," Kurt says softly, before firmly patting Finn's shoulders. "You may let go now."

Burt stomps in behind them, and drops Kurt's bags in the hallway.

"I have a freshly baked apple pie cooling on the kitchen counter. Would anyone like a slice with some vanilla ice cream?"

"Yes!" Finn hisses, and pumps a fist in the air.

"He's still easy to please, I see," Kurt smirks. "It sounds lovely, I'd like some, Carole."

Kurt follows his sort-of-brother into the kitchen, while Carole and Burt share a smile. It's the first time they've heard Kurt being his snarky, witty self in a very long time. It'll all work out in the end. This is good.

She hugs Burt, laces their fingers together, and pull her love to the kitchen, hoping there's some pie left for them.

* * *

"You gotta close your eyes when you walk down to our room, Kurt."

"Finn, I'm not walking down the stairs without my sight. That's dangerous."

"But Kurt!" Finn whines. "I have a surprise for you. What if I carry you?"

Kurt glares at him.

"OK, dude, I won't carry you."

"What if I close my eyes when I reach the door?"

"I knew you were smart!" Finn grins, offering Kurt a high five.

He breathes out as the walk down the stairs. He's carrying Kurt's bags for him, and Kurt is holding his dead flowers in some kind of vase. He just wants Kurt to be OK, and as his roommate and soon-to-be-big-brother he feels he has a big responsibility to make that happen.

"Eyes closed," Kurt confirms at the bottom of the stairs even before Finn can ask. Freaky!

Finn reaches out to push the door open.

"OK," he says, and nudges Kurt on the lower back.

Kurt crosses the threshold, and gasps.

"Finn…"

Finn holds his breathe. He isn't sure if that was a good-Finn or a bad-Finn. He takes in the room, trying to see it with Kurt's eyes. Carole had washed Kurt's half of the room, and put new sheets on the bed. Finn didn't think that was enough, though, so he had added some things. Yesterday he'd invited the guys in Glee for a strategy meeting to find out how they can protect Kurt in school, and they had helped him make a _Welcome home, Kurt_-banner to drape from the ceiling. They'd used a black bed sheet he found in the linen closet, and found some remaining splats of white-ish paint from when Kurt redecorated the basement. After school today he'd gone to the florist and the delicatessen. He'd bought him an orchid and a large bag of those chocolate truffles he knows Kurt enjoys in secrecy, and put both on his bedside table. He's never even bought something like that for any of his dates, and Puck had assured him it was "not homo" to care for a brother-to-be.

"Finn…" Kurt says again, and Finn wishes he'd start saying something else.

But then Kurt turns around, and there are tears in his eyes, and shit, Finn is not good with tears. But Kurt doesn't look pissed off, so it can't be angry tears, can it?

Then Finn finds himself engulfed in a tight hug.

"I can't believe you cleaned," Kurt squeaks, and Finn wants to object and point out the other things he did, but then he sees the twinkle in Kurt's eyes and realizes the boy is pulling his leg.

"Thank you," Kurt says sincerely, and floats over to his bed. He sniffs the orchid and pops one of the truffles into his mouth. "Mmm," he hums gleefully and smiles at Finn.

"So, do you wanna watch a movie, or play a game, or something?"

"I'd like to unpack, but maybe afterwards?"

"Cool," Finn concludes, and decides to plop down in bed and shoot some zombies.

From the corner of his eyes he watches how Kurt is shuffling around to empty his bag, fill the hamper, and put things back in his closet. He keeps touching his stuff carefully with a finger, or picking it up to have a closer look. Finn sees how he's watching pictures, knickknacks, some of those bottles with face stuff, and some of his clothes. He runs a finger over the pillows on the bed, and then sniffs his plant again.

"I feel exhausted," Kurt sighs. "I think I'll take a shower, and then go to bed. Is that OK?"

"Sure, dude, don't stress it," Finn immediately replies, and mutes the video game.

"Rain check?" Kurt asks, nodding at the TV.

"Anytime, bro."

* * *

When Kurt shambles into the kitchen, he finds Carole sitting by the table nursing a cup of coffee and reading a magazine.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

"Good morning, Carole. Anybody else home?"

"No, Finn's at school and your dad went to the garage."

Kurt throws a glance at the clock on the stove.

"Gosh, it's already ten AM. Why aren't you at work as well?"

"It's my day off," she shrugs.

Kurt watches her carefully. She always makes sure to be off from work the same days as Burt, so they can go on dates or spending time in the house together.

"You're babysitting me, aren't you?"

"We thought you shouldn't be alone on your first day home," she winks at him. "You're too smart to be fooled, aren't you?"

"This was kind of transparent," Kurt shrugs. "So, any plans for today?"

"What did Thomas and you agree to do today?"

"Today is for settling down and getting used to this house again."

"Good. I thought we could have a nice family dinner tonight, to celebrate you're home. We'll have whatever you want, and maybe you could help me make it?"

"Lady, you've got yourself a deal," Kurt grins crookedly.

Together, they dive into the recipe books to find something delicious worthy of a family celebration without being an issue for Burt's heart.

* * *

Kurt thinks he's figured out what Carole is doing. They settled on a menu, and Carole bravely texted Finn to have him pick up some of the groceries they needed. Then they baked a huge batch of cookies, Carole reasoning that it was bound to be plenty of visitors for him the next days. They sat down to plan Christmas, less than two weeks away. They watched several episodes of some of Kurt's shows he'd missed out on while in Bellefontaine. They'd given each other manicures.

Yes, Carole had been busy keeping Kurt occupied, so he wouldn't have time to sit down and think. He's eternally grateful, but he's also becoming overwhelmingly exhausted. Luckily, dad will be home within an hour.

"Sweetie, you look pale, I think I must have driven you too hard. Why don't you nap until dinner?"

Kurt happily accepts, and walks carefully down the stairs. He lies down in bed without taking off his clothes. The ceiling catches his attention, and he stares at it for several minutes before drifting away.

It feels as if only a blink of the eye has passed when Carole carefully nudges him awake.

"Slept well, honey?" she asks.

Kurt smiles when he realizes he actually did. He hasn't had a single nightmare after he came home, at least not that he can remember. It's good to be home. This is safety and security. If he can just stay within these four walls, he'll be quite content.

Dinner is a fairly eventless affair, although conversation is slightly stilted. The other three have become used to being a family, and Kurt still needs to find his spot and voice. They do their best to include him, but there are too many inside jokes, unknown stories, and shared experiences Kurt knows nothing about. He tries to not let it get into him, but focus on enjoying how happy they seem and learn their lingo. And they really try to include him, encouraging him to tell his own stories. But, he hasn't been exposed to a lot of impressions to draw any amusing tales from lately. He feels as if he can't, shouldn't and don't want to break any confidentiality by telling about the other patients in the ward. Which leaves him stuck with nothing.

"So, got any plans for tomorrow, kiddo?"

"Not yet," Kurt admits. "But I have to plan _something_."

"My shift starts late afternoon tomorrow, so I was thinking about doing some Christmas gift shopping during daytime. You're welcome to join me, Kurt," Carole offers.

"Let me think about it?"

"Of course," she pats his hand.

He can almost hear Thomas' voice in his head, telling him to jump to the chance of getting out of the house and facing some of his fears in company with someone he more or less trusts. Going to the mall is something he's dreaded, fearing he'll run into the jocks from McKinley. But, during daytime they should still be in school, so maybe he can brave the risk? He'll sleep on it.

Kurt asks Finn if the video game-offer still stands, and they head down to the basement to kill off some zombies. It's a welcoming distraction, doing something literally brainless without draining him of energy, and keeping all kinds of thoughts at bay.

Before they go to bed, Kurt decides to grab a carrot from the kitchen, to end the slight hunger his stomach is complaining about.

He is silent as he walks up the stairs. He doesn't intend to be sneaky; he's just naturally graceful, elegant and soundless. He can hear his dad and Carole talking in the living room, but them mentioning his name makes him freeze. He squats down on top of the stair, tuning his ear onto their conversation. If they're talking about him, it isn't illegitimate eavesdropping, right?

"Are you sure it's smart to take Kurt to the mall tomorrow?" he can hear his father's gruff voice say.

"I can't promise everything will go swell, but I think it's important that he tries, if he wants to. Going with me tomorrow is better than going alone later," Carole's calm voice answers.

"Yeah, but the mall? Couldn't you start with something easier, like a gas station?" Burt sounds annoyed.

"Burt," Carole says sternly. "On Sunday Kurt went on his own to the coffee shop, which is more crowded than a gas station. We shouldn't aim for a backlash, if Kurt is ready for more."

"What if something happens? What if some of those bullies spend their lunch break at the mall? Why if some ignorant bastard throws a comment? What if he freaks out?" His father sounds frantic, and it makes Kurt's heart ache.

"Then we'll deal with it. I know you want to protect him, but you can't roll him up in bubble wrap. I'm a mother; I understand how badly you want him to stay safe. But it's impossible to avoid any kind of bumps in his ride to recovery."

"He's just so… God, Carole, he's still my little boy, still a little kid. The world can be a cruel world, and he's not as strong and confident as he used to be."

"I know, darling, I know. But if Kurt feels up to anything, I think we should give him the reigns to do so. Remember what the doctor told us. We can't force him to anything, but we can gently push him, and we should encourage any kind of initiative he makes to leave the house or socialize," Carole says softly.

Kurt carefully climbs halfway down the stairs, before stomping up to alert the grown ups he's approaching.

"Buddy, is that you?"

"Yeah, dad, it's me."

Kurt walks into the living room, and smiles at both of them.

"Anything wrong, son?"

"Calm down, dad, I just wanted a snack before going to bed."

"Do you want me to make you anything, sweetie?" Carole offers.

"That's OK, Carole, I just planned on snacking on a carrot."

They exchange good night-wishes, and when Kurt walks down the stairs again the conversation he overheard does a rerun in his head. His father clearly worries about him, and that's not healthy for his heart. What can Kurt do to help his father? Should he go to the mall to show he's strong enough? Or should he stay home to not uproar his father?

* * *

Kurt still doesn't know what to choose when he wakes up the next morning. To mall or not to mall? He takes his time to finish breakfast, to postpone the decision a minute, and then another minute. When his plate and mug is emptied, he decides to refill the coffee. It's not like he needs the caffeine, but it'll give him at least ten more minutes.

"Have you thought about joining me at the mall?"

Then again, maybe not.

_It's all I've been thinking about_, he wants to say.

"I don't know," he ends up saying.

"It's all up to you, but I was hoping to leave within an hour," she smiles.

Kurt nods to show he heard her, while sipping at his coffee. Maybe a deadline for his decision isn't the worst thing to happen.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts, then," she says kindly.

Kurt continues to nurse his mug, and aimlessly flips the pages of the morning paper. A tickle on his thigh alerts him of an incoming message.

_How are we today? Blaine_

Kurt grins as he types out a response. They've been texting now and then since he came home, in between Blaine's exams and cramming.

_Kurt wants to go to the mall with Carole, while Elizabeth wants to stay home. How are you today?_

_Blaine is stressing out about tomorrow's exam, while Valério is still high from today's achievements. First outing since you came home?_

_How are you already done with today's exam? It's still early. Yeah, my room feels so safe…_

_Oral exam, first to go, didn't have to prolong the suffering. I know how you feel. But you did so well on Sunday. You can do it again. Courage!_

Kurt smiles sadly at the last text. It reminds him of the Scrabble letters Blaine gave him. He bolts out of the chair and hurries downstairs. In his satchel, he finds the seven letters. He tucks them in the pocket of his pants, to keep them as close as possible.

_I want to be brave. But I don't want to worry my dad._

_From what you've told me about him, he loves you, and will always worry, no matter what._

_I guess you're right._

_Of course I'm right. I have a brand new A proving what a mastermind I have ;)_

_Congrats! Well, gotta get dressed; seem to be going to the mall._

_Good luck! Text me when you buy something nice. :)_

* * *

They've been at the mall for half an hour, and Kurt is exhausted. His eyes are constantly roaming the big maze of a building, to keep control and protect him. It's as if he's expecting to see someone, but not knowing where, and keeping a lookout for them. He startles whenever he thinks he can see a McKinley leather jacket. He never does. But his imagination is overly prepared. He wants to bolt out, but he doesn't want to be alone.

Carole seems to be sensing his discomfort, and is staying close, never drifting off, and gives him due warning whenever she changes direction or stops to have a look at something. He's grateful, although he feels as if he's being babysat.

He palms his pocket, and can feel the seven letters lightly dig into his thigh. He exhales slowly, letting them remind him about Blaine, about courage, about better days.

"Honey, did you want to buy anything? Let's get in here," she says, takes his hand and drags him into one of his former favourite clothes stores.

Kurt recognizes a distraction when it's being force fed to him, but he's grateful. It's not like any of the jocks would be found in here among fashionable garments, and maybe he can breathe easier.

He wanders aimlessly around to get a general impression of what the shop can offer. God, he hasn't been shopping for clothes in… months. Does he really need anything? Does he want anything? Can he afford anything? He hasn't worked in his dad's garage for months, but it's not like he's spent money on anything for months either, so there's probably money available. Maybe he should check his account some day.

"If you find anything you like, it's on me," Carole says offhandedly, as she lets her hands take in the soft fabrics of some scarves.

"You don' have to do that," Kurt objects. "Christmas is coming up; I'll let you know if something can go to my wish list."

"Consider it a welcome back home-gift," she insists. "These sweaters look nice. Oh, I'd love to see Finn in a nice shirt like this, but I think I'll have to keep daydreaming."

Kurt smiles at her. Carole's sweet; he decided that a long time ago, but it's also nice to get to know her even better. He takes a closer look on the sweaters she pointed out, and they do look good. His eyes land on a pile further away, though, and he can't look away. It's like a magnetic force pulling him, drawing him in like a helpless fish in a pond tricked by the shiny bait.

He closes his eyes as his hand shoots out to touch the fabric. It's softer than expected, some shirts are still so stiff in the store and need to be washed before they sit properly. He tucks his fingers into the sleeve, and it's as if the fabric melts around his hand. The shirt isn't merely black. It's so black it almost turns blue. Or green. It's such a deep and vibrant colour. The fabric is thin, almost translucent, without stepping over anything.

"Carole?" he says a bit louder than expected, and there's an urgency in his voice making Carole jog over to him immediately.

"Kurt?" she asks, sounding concerned.

"I _need_ to try this on," he whispers.

She takes one look at him, and smiles.

"You do that," she beams.

He heads straight for the fitting rooms, and changes surprisingly fast.

"May I see?" Carole asks from the other side of the curtain, as he's gaping in front of the mirror. He pulls the curtain to the side.

"Oh, sweetie, that looks really good on you."

The design is nothing fancy. It's a short sleeved button up. It's the colour and the fabric that makes it, though. It's tight fitting, and for other clothes he'd say it's clinging, but this is just hugging him. It's soft, without being fluid, and just sticks to him, without suffocating him. It's like a nice lotion, or like stepping into a bathtub.

His long, pale arms are a stark contrast to the deep black shirt. And they wake him up from the spell.

"It's not my style," he shrugs, and lifts one of his damned arms to cover the cubicle with the curtain again.

"What do you mean, honey?"

"I don't like it," he says defensively.

"Kurt," Carole says softly. "Your eyes say otherwise."

"Well, I can't wear it," he barks, but instantly regrets it.

He sinks down on the tiny, hard fold-up chair in the cubicle.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into his hands, and Carole squats down in front of him.

"It's OK, honey. It's OK," she mumbles into his hair, and holds him. "Why don't you tell me what makes you so upset?"

He sniffs, and pulls away from her, turning his left arm around to show her. The red, ugly scar is still as obvious as a blinking pink flamingo neon sign.

"Would you be willing to trust me, let me buy you the shirt and take you to a second store?"

Kurt swallows heavily, but looks at her. He nods.

"Do you want to look for some pants to go with that shirt before we leave?"

"No, it's OK, I have a couple back home that will match perfectly," he smiles sweetly, but a bit forced.

The truth is, even though he wants to trust Carole, he can't see himself being able to wear this shirt in a long time, so there's no point in buying an entire outfit to be stored away in his wardrobe for a long time.

Carole takes him to a part of the mall he rarely visits, after she's paid for the shirt. It's mostly sport equipment and stores like that here.

"Finn took me here once to buy a gift for Puck," Carole explains, and stops in front of a tiny store. Kurt notices it's a tattoo parlour, but they also offer piercings and various accessories.

"I'm not getting a tattoo," Kurt blurts out.

"I didn't think you would want one either," Carole's laughter thrills, and makes the young man behind the counter look up from his comic magazine.

He looks like the stereotypical employer in that kind of shop, with a lot of piercings, jewellery, tattoos, purple Mohawk and expensively ragged jeans.

"How may I help you?" he asks politely and honestly, and Kurt quickly scolds himself for expecting him to be rude and of few words.

"We're interested in cuffs," Carole answers him sweetly, and tugs Kurt closer.

His hands are buried deep down in his coat pockets.

"For you or for your son?" the man asks without batting an eyelid.

"Oh no, just for him," Carole laughs, and Kurt's tummy does something funny when she doesn't correct the man's assumptions about their blood lines.

"What kind of style do you prefer?" the man asks Kurt kindly, and he has to pull together to focus and answer.

"I… I don't know?"

"It's supposed to go to this shirt, but it would be nice if it could be worn with other items in his wardrobe as well," Carole says, showing the item of clothing they just bought. Kurt is feeling overwhelmed, and is glad Carole is there to supplement his stifled conversation.

"Why don't we start here?" the man offers, and points them to a display cabinet. "I'm Charlie, by the way," he says easily, as he unlocks the glass door.

"K-kurt," Kurt stutters, and Carole offers her name as well.

"Nice to meet you," Charlie smiles. "It's always nice to meet new customers, and I haven't seen any of you in here before. Does any of these talk to you?" he addresses Kurt.

Kurt tries discretely to measure through his coat the size of his scar, and what kind of cuff he'll need to cover it up.

"You can just dump your jacket on that chair, and try the cuffs on," Charlie offers.

Hesitantly, Kurt sheds the coat, but tucks his sleeves down so they cover half of his hands as well.

"Anyone tickling your fancy?" Charlie smiles brightly, and Kurt can't help but smile at the young man's eagerness.

His eyes keep landing on one cuff, but he doesn't know if it'll cover up what's necessary. Charlie must have been paying attention, because he takes out the right cuff.

"It's a beauty, and would look really good with that shirt sleeve," he offers.

Kurt accepts the square piece of soft leather and velvet laces. It has a corset back, and intricate carvings of a black bird soaring with outstretched wings, and Kurt knows it'll look really elegant in sharp contrast to his skin, making a relief for the decoration. But he worries his scar will still be visible through the corset lacing.

"Come on, try it on; I can see you almost drooling," Charlie laughs.

Kurt smiles shyly, but starts pulling away the sleeves of his shirt and sweater to bare his skin. He folds the cuff around his wrist, but it's difficult to tie the laces on his own.

"Here, let me help you?" Charlie offers, and takes Kurt left hand in his own.

Kurt's hand jerks away as if he's been scolded, and the cuff drops to the floor. He clutches his arm to his chest, and looks at the salesman with big, scared eyes.

Silently and deftly, Charlie unclicks a wide silver cuff from his right arms, and lays it gently on the counter. He holds up his fist next to his face, and Kurt can see the faint white lines across his tan arm.

Shakily, Kurt lowers his own hand to rest on the counter, scar visible for everyone to see. Carole quickly bends down to pick up the forgotten cuff.

Charlie doesn't say anything as he weaves the velvet through the holes and ties up the cuff, but his eyes are filled with understanding, support and compassion. No judgement, no sadness, no pity. Just a shared knowledge, and glad to be able to help Kurt with this.

The cuff looks good, it really does. It may be a bit extravagant, but maybe it's about time Kurt tries to find himself again. Besides, it can be hidden under long sleeves if he wants to. And Christmas is coming up, isn't that a nice opportunity to dress smartly and accessorize?

"What others have you got?" Carole asks Charlie.

"That's OK, I like this one, I don't need to try any more," Kurt interrupts here.

"Oh, don't you worry, you're getting that one. But I thought you might want to have a couple more, it's always nice to have options depending on your mood and outfit, right?"

Kurt just blinks at her. Is she for real?

"That one is festive; maybe we want something more neutral and toned down as well?" Charlie suggests. He opens a new door and takes out a display.

He lets his eyes drift over them to see if anyone calls for his attention. Two of them do.

One is a simple brown leather cuff with two push buttons. Kurt tries it on – it's so easy to fasten on his own, and that's always a bonus. It's a bit big, though, and keeps twirling around his wrist, and moving whenever he uses his hand.

"I can move the buttons and cut it to better fit you, if you'd like that?" Charlie offers.

"Thank you, that would be nice," Kurt smiles, and Charlie marks with a white pencil where the adjustments are needed.

The other cuff he looks at, is a narrow thing in thick, black leather. He checks, and it'll cover up the scar perfectly, but not much more of his arm. A thin metal plate is nailed to the letter, and seven overly familiar letters are engraved to it. He can feel the Scrabble pieces burn in his pants.

"I… I think I need this one," he exhales, feeling a tug at his heart.

Five minutes later, Carole has paid for his three cuffs. The brown one will be adjusted and sent in the mail for him. Charlie didn't even charge extra for the trouble, said it was on the house, and had given Kurt a supportive look again.

"You really didn't have to buy me all those, I could have paid them myself," Kurt insists.

"Nonsense, I wanted to give you something nice," Carole brushes it off, and unlocks the car.

"Do you know what the best part was?" she asks when both have fastened their seat belts.

Kurt shakes his head.

"To see that eager, happy, determined look you used to get when you saw something you really wanted."

Huh. Come to think about it, Kurt has been fairly relaxed the last hour, if you forget about the minor freak out when Charlie tried to take his hand. But he hasn't been anticipating and fearing any jocks or any other trouble. He's actually quite enjoyed himself. What a weird feeling.

But he can also feel that he's exhausted now. It'll be nice to come back home. He only has to do one thing before taking a nap.

Alone in his room, he puts on his new courage-cuff, takes a picture with his phone, and sends it to Blaine. Two minutes later, he's sleeping deeply.

* * *

"I went to your school today."

Burt's announcement comes as a surprise to Kurt.

"OK?"

"I had a long talk with principal Figgins and the coaches Sylvester and Beiste. They told me to say hello. At least, the women did."

"What… What did you talk about?"

"How to keep you safe," Burt's gruff response fills the room.

"And did you plot any brilliant master plans?" Kurt asks nonchalantly.

The thought of going back to McKinley scares him, but he's tried not to think about it, as his father said he wouldn't be going back to school before Christmas break anyway.

"I figured out your principal is a damn dimwit without any backbone. Says his hands are tied with no real proof of you being in danger. As if he should just sit back and wait until things have escalated into physical danger," Burt huffs. "What goes on there, with you? That's not right."

"I guess there's nothing we can do…" Kurt sighs.

"Oh, there's apparently nothing the principal can do," Burt corrects, and there's an almost dangerous glimmer in his eyes.

"What do you mean, dad?"

"Coach Beiste promised to keep the football team by their ears, and teach them something about respect and decency. That's all swell, but I can't believe it'll do you any immediate good. Coach Sylvester said she had connections, so she's checking up things for me. I'd prefer if we found you another school."

Kurt hasn't got any reply to that. He hasn't even considered changing school.

"I'll keep you posted, son."

"Thanks, dad," Kurt says silently, and retreats to his room.

It seems so cowardly to transfer just for a semester, and he'd like to graduate with his friends. He doesn't know what his dad is up to but he'll have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do any arrangements Kurt is against, behind his back.

On the other hand, being able to finish school without Karofsky, the bullying, the slushies, the slurs, the anxiety… Maybe that's something he needs to recover quicker from his mental issues, and make him stronger and better prepared for college?

There are several other high schools in the area, so it would work out nicely. It's not easy to make new friends for just a semester. Then again, he's stayed by himself away from people for the most of this semester, so the transition won't be that much of a big deal.

But what if there are even scarier homophobes at the new school? Can he endure it for five-six months? Should he consider going back to the closet, or will they just assume anyway? Can he hide by going back to the Finnesque wardrobe he stuck with before he landed a bed in Bellefontaine?

And what if they've been using different books and another curriculum in the new school, what if he can't keep up and get crap scores on his exams because he didn't have enough time to adjust?

Maybe he should just stay at McKinley?

Pro's, con's and what-if's are swirling around in Kurt's mind, making him all dizzy and confused. He doesn't know, and that's the only thing he knows.

He takes his phone and texts Blaine.

_Dad's refusing me to go back to my school. He's looking into candidates I can transfer to. Kurt_

_What are you thinking? Blaine_

_Too much. Not enough._

_I don't want to go back there either. But I want to go back to my friends. I feel damned. Kurt_

_Safety first, Kurt._

_Boy scout._

_No, I took all sorts of music lessons when a kid instead._

_You're a dork._

_But I'm your dork ;)_

_No, you're not._

_No, I'm not… :(_

Blaine asked Kurt out on a date when he left the ward in Bellefontaine. Blaine hasn't mentioned it in such words after that, but it has still been a recurring theme in their conversations. Blaine asked at a point if he could visit Kurt during Christmas, but Kurt made up some excuses about too many family obligations.

It's not as if he doesn't miss Blaine and wouldn't like to see the boy again, but he doesn't want to lead him on either. He doesn't want the boy to spend that kind of money on plane tickets, he doesn't want the boy to commit to someone living that far away, and he really can't understand why Blaine would want to pursue some broken kid in Ohio when he lives in LA – a more prospering gay paradise than Ohio, anyway. He hasn't told Blaine those things, obviously, because Blaine would probably find arguments against them. So whenever Blaine's brought up coming to visit Kurt, or mentioned anything vaguely referring to a date or a relationship, Kurt's waved it off. It's practically impossible to argue against the attraction that's there, after all the wonderful kissing they did at the ward. But that's all it could ever be.

Blaine is an amazing man, and he deserves something much better. So Kurt does everything in his power to fence off any kind of advances, refuses to encourage anything resembling flirting or romance, and drops a metaphorical bucket of ice on Blaine when he needs to. But Kurt isn't able to let him completely go, he still needs, no, _wants_ him as a friend. He just cannot see him again, because to see him go again will break his heart. He cannot be dependent on someone living more than 2.200 miles away, but he allows himself to enjoy their interactions.

* * *

"We're getting married!"

"Uh mom, you've already told us you're engaged," Finn laughs.

"What your mom is trying to say, is that we've set a date for the wedding," Burt explains. "Now that Kurt is back home, the family is complete, and we want to make it official."

"You didn't have to wait for me," Kurt mumbles, but nobody hears him.

"So when is it?" Finn asks giddily, almost jumping on his chair. He may have felt hesitant and awkward earlier, but now he can't wait to officially be a complete family.

"January 1st," Carole smiles.

"We want to start the new year with a bang, and as a family," Burt grins.

"But that's only two weeks away?" Kurt asks.

"We know. But we don't want to wait anymore, and we don't need a fancy wedding. Those we want to invite are bound to be in the area to celebrate New Year's Eve anyway, so this will work out perfectly," Burt explains calmly.

"Maybe you'd like to help me with the preparations, Kurt?" Carole asks.

"Umm, sure, I have plenty of spare time."

"And more importantly, you have the best taste and style," Carole winks.

"I forgot, but I have news too," Finn grins excitedly. "New Directions are coming over tomorrow for pizza. I know you said to keep it calm the first days Kurt was back home, but I can't hold them back anymore. They wanna see him, so they're coming over tomorrow after school."

"All of them?" Kurt asks startled.

"Yeah, probably," Finn shrugs.

Kurt checks the time. He's got about 21 hours to prepare himself for the madness.

After dinner, Kurt and Carole sit down to brainstorm flowers, cakes, invitations, buffet food, dresses, songs, venues, and dancing. Carole isn't working the next day, so they research which stores to visit, and plan out an excessive to do-list.

Later that night, Kurt shares the news with Blaine over the phone. Blaine says he thinks it'll be amazing, with Kurt in charge. Kurt snorts, and says he's no David Tutera. Then again, although he loves her to bits, Carole is no Kate Middleton either.

* * *

Friday is a busy day, running around to prepare the wedding with Carole. Kurt keeps Blaine updated about their progress and particularly nice finds, and Blaine keeps peppering him with encouragement and support.

When Carole and he come back home, they've found the perfect venue, booked a cake tasting for next week in two different bakeries, narrowed the flower options down to three, tried on a dozen bridal dresses, and sent out the handwritten invitations.

Kurt's exhausted after the busy days, and gives Carole stern instructions to wake him up in due time before the Glee club comes to the house.

Unfortunately, they don't have the same definition of "in due time", but with some short cuts Kurt manages to shower, get dressed and fix his hair before Finn and the others barge in the door. They all greet him, but with different approaches.

Brittany clings to him, and says she's glad Lord Tubbington decided to give one of his nine lives to Kurt, so that he could come back. Santana mutters something in Spanish, and tells him that if he ever scares them like that again, she'll end him herself. Kurt stiffens at her words. When she actually leans in to give him a brief hug, Kurt knows she's been seriously worried, though. Tina hugs him dearly and tells him it's good to see him in his natural state. She also tells him to not mind Santana, she's just been afraid for him. Rachel takes his hands in hers and says she's glad he's back for Regionals, and that Mr. Schue sends his best. He doesn't mention anything about maybe transferring. Quinn doesn't say anything, but she has tears in her eyes, and holds him close for a long time. Something's off with her appearance, but Kurt can't pinpoint it.

Finn almost knocks Kurt over with his pats on his back, and heads for the kitchen to find some bowls for the potato chips and snacks they've bought.

Artie wheels in, and offers Kurt a high five. He doesn't say anything, and Kurt is kind of relieved. Everybody's fussing around him and offering meaningless words. It's nice to see someone just dealing with him without making a big deal out of it. Sam and Mike smile awkwardly at him, and walk into the living room. Puck slams an arm around Kurt's shoulders, and leads him into the living room as well.

"We've got your back, Hummel," he promises, and grins.

Mercedes is the last to approach him, and she seems to be struggling with meeting his eyes. She mostly stares at the carpet.

"You look smashing today, 'Cedes. Dressing to impress someone?" he teases, and throws a quick glance in Sam's direction. But the girl only shakes her head.

"I'm glad you approve," she says hesitantly. She seems to be looking for more words, but only sighs deeply, and walks away to sit next to Rachel.

Kurt furrows his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he daintily sits down on the piano stool, pulling it closer to the sitting group where the New Directions are gathered. The conversation is stilted and muffled, until Finn enters with the snack.

"The pizzas will be here in twenty minutes," he grins, and almost drops a glass bowl with potato chips on the floor. "So, what are you talking about?"

Some of them mumble something unintelligible; others fill their mouths with chips to avoid talking.

"Dudes, what's up?" Finn looks confused at their friends. "Usually it's impossible to make you shut up."

"Umm, what would you like to talk about, Kurt?" Sam asks politely.

Kurt shrugs.

They all look at each other in confusion.

"Guys, what's wrong with you? You never ask what we should talk about. Your weirdness is freaking me out," Finn complains.

"We don't want to offend him," Mercedes says quietly, as if Kurt isn't in the room.

"We don't want to risk our Porcelain crack and be brought away from us for repairs again," Brittany agrees.

Finn stands up from his chair, and gives each and every single one of them a stern look.

"I know you've been all emotional and stuff, I've been too, but Kurt is back now, and he's not that different. So suck it up and treat him like we normally treat our friends."

Finn then turns towards his sort-of-brother.

"I see you, you know. I know you're still depressed and tired, but sometimes the real you pop up. Just let me know if you need to rest, and we'll be out of here."

"Thank you," Kurt mouths silently.

The silence is deafening for a while, until Kurt opens his mouth.

"So, who's the twelfth member when you competed, and why isn't they invited?"

"The Jewfro," Santana snorts, and it explains it all.

Kurt laughs, and it seems to dissolve the tension in the room, and the conversation eases up.

Later, after way too much pizza, Kurt finds himself sitting next to Quinn in the couch. He's still trying to figure out why she seems different.

"How are you, Quinn?" he asks, while he studies her face, hair and clothes.

She's stopped dying her hair pink, removed the nose ring, and started wearing her cute, wholesome dresses again.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You're not wearing your golden cross," Kurt suddenly realizes, completely ignoring her question.

She touches her chest self-consciously, where the golden cross used to rest.

"I… I'm taking a break from it."

"You're taking a break from your jewellery?" he asks disbelievingly.

"Kurt…" Quinn gathers his hands in her own. "I don't know if I should talk with you about this."

"It sounds as if it has to do with me, so I do think you should tell me," Kurt points out.

Quinn sighs, squeezes his hands, and takes a deep breathe.

"In the first service in my congregation, after you ended up in hospital, our minister talked about unforgiving sins, when people try to overrule God's plan for our lives. And…"

"And?" Kurt lifts his right eyebrow.

"He talked about suicide," Quinn whispers.

Kurt swallows loudly.

"I see."

"I know my church already looks down on homosexuality, although I don't share their view. You're my friend, Kurt, and I'm struggling to understand how they can condemn you because of your despair after all the bullying. When I see you, I don't see a sinner."

"I think you already know where I stand in regards to religion. But I know it's important to you, Quinn. And there are several different churches. Maybe you don't have to abandon your faith altogether, just because your congregation is too conservative for you?"

Quinn leans in to hug him.

"I never thought I'd ever get advice on my personal faith from you," she giggles. "You're amazing, Kurt. They should listen to you instead, when they preach about acceptance and tolerance."

Kurt blushes and ducks his head.

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Maybe I could try another church…" she says, and Kurt notices her eyes flickering in Sam's direction. If both Quinn and Mercedes have set their eyes on Sam, there will be drama soon.

He gives her hand a firm squeeze before letting go, and gets up to refill his soda glass. From the corner of his eyes, he notices Sam immediately takes his seat.

Kurt sits down next to Mercedes, but they never get a conversation flowing. They talk awkwardly, hesitantly, and Mercedes seems distant and avoidant. It hurts Kurt, and eventually he excuses himself to mingle, they have after all come to see him. He leans on the armrest next to Puck, and mindlessly listens to him boasting about his latest juvie-adventures to the other boys.

He doesn't feel like part of this group of people anymore. Maybe transferring wouldn't be so bad.


	31. New Beginnings

**AN: I've been writing and writing and writing on this chapter, and then I realized it would be waaaaay too long, so I decided to cut it here. I hope it isn't too much of a cliffhanger for you, I tried to be kind.**

**Thank you to all the wonderful reviews, they really encourage me to write and to work hard on my story. Thank you to my faithful readers, this wouldn't be as much fun without you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but enjoy playing with other's masterwork.**

* * *

The first days back home is a blur of activities, visits, errands, news, food, company, and getting into the groove of new routines and rhythms. By Sunday, Kurt feels settled down, and not so caught up in the whirlwind of being home again. It gives him time to breathe. And it gives him time to think.

Come Monday, both Carole and Burt spend their day at work. It's December 22nd, and Finn is out of McKinley for their winter break. He'd offered to stay with him, but Kurt had felt slightly offended by the babysitting offer, and dismissed Finn, telling him to go to Puck for the Halo tournament he'd heard them talking about on Friday.

Kurt's spent the morning getting reacquainted with the house. It is different. Carole and Finn have certainly left their impression on what used to be the Hummel's home. The room he now shares with Finn in the basement is the most obvious change, but it's not the only one.

The kitchen cupboards are filled with china, utensils and kitchen supplies he doesn't recognize, and assumes come from the Hudson household. He's relieved when he finds his old tea set in its usual place. It's the china he used whenever he invited his mom and dad for tea parties on Sunday afternoons. He likes Carole, he truly does, but he doesn't want to forget about his mother either. He needs her.

He sits on the floor, caressing the handle of one of the tiny tea cups, while letting the memories and imagined sensations overflow him. He remembers how disappointed he was when he discovered he actually didn't _like_ tea, when he hosted the first party. His mom had smiled lovingly at him, and offered to make some cocoa instead. She told him she had seen a picture in one of her magazines of the British baby prince William drinking hot chocolate, so it would be fine.

The cocoa was great, but it wasn't fine. There should be tea at a tea party.

The next day, when he came home from kindergarten, his mom met him in the kitchen with 12 different types of tea. She'd put him on her lap, and told him they could try the different flavours, to see if he preferred one of them to the one they had yesterday. So they spent the afternoon drinking a lot of tea, testing different types, experimenting with sugar amounts and even some lemon to make it bearable. It had been wonderful. His mom had smiled and laughed all day, Kurt realized to his great relief that he did enjoy tea after all, at least three of the 12 were really delicious, but all the drinking also made him pee a lot.

Of course, today Kurt is a coffee person. But whenever he feels gloomy, he'll make himself a cup of tea – flavour not crucial anymore, add an indecent amount of sugar, wrap his fingers around the steaming mug - pinkie outstretched, and think about his mother.

Kurt is making himself nostalgic, and he needs to go to the master bedroom. His mother's dresser still has her scent, and it's comforting to just lie down next to the open doors and inhale her. It's as if she's close to him in those moments.

But when Kurt steps into his father's bedroom for the first time in more than two months, the changes that's happened there shocks him. Not only is his mother's dresser gone, but Burt's also kicked out their old bed, nightstands, everything. The room has been heavily redecorated, and Kurt suspects it's from Carole's colour palette. He doubts his father would do anything like this. His parent's old bedroom furniture has been replaced with some generic stuff from IKEA. The walls that used to be light lavender, is painted in a deep green colour, contrasting the white bed and yellow floral patterned bed linens. Even the curtains are new. Kurt would have thought his father would have talked to him before he threw away anything, but apparently not.

Kurt's breathe hitches; he blinks rapidly to force away the tears, and stumbles into the adjourning bathroom. When he opens the door, he's met with a mixture of both Burt and Carole's scents.

He can't take it, and runs out of there, collapsing on the couch. It's still the same old couch, outworn and outdated, but right now so familiar and comforting. Next to the couch, though, is an alien heavy brown leather chair that doesn't belong there. Kurt knows it's Christopher Hudson's chair, and that Finn had wanted to keep it. Carole and he had a big fight over it, but finally Carole relented, to make the transition easier for her son. Kurt turns around, so he doesn't have to face the strange chair, and burrows his head in the familiar and beloved quilt that his mom made. It's one of the last things she made before she passed away, and a treasured memorial.

He wipes his eyes with his sleeves, and eventually gets up. He continues his exploration of the house, wondering where his home disappeared. There are so many small and subtle changes all over the place, making it merely a _house_. Next to his baby pictures, are added similar motives of Finn. Next to the wedding picture of his parents, is one of Finn's parents. Or at least he assumes so; he doesn't know how his father looked. Pictures from Kurt's childhood and important moments are scattered on shelves and walls, but now they are accompanied by Finn's first day in school, Finn and his little league team, Finn on a bike. But there have also been added pictures of the New Directions, where both of them are, which he's never seen before.

Kurt rummages through every single shelf, drawer and cupboard in the house, mentally noting down every change and addition. He isn't mad – he's glad for his dad and Carole. He wants him to be happy. It's just overwhelming, realizing how much Carole and Finn have interwoven what used to be a silent life and home of _Burt and Kurt_. Kurt briefly wonders if he's been in a coma for a year, or if it's only been a month since he landed a bed in Bellefontaine. No matter how shitty his days at school were, he always knew he had this sanctuary. He had this well-known, safe haven, constant and solid, something to rely on and use for support, a place to recharge his tired batteries in comfort and secure isolation. But now, being alone in the house, he almost feels like an intruder.

"_Coming home used to feel so good…"_

He continues to rummage the linen closet outside the master bedroom, and without realizing it he's singing under his breathe. It's slow and pained, nothing like the optimistic and feisty original.

"_I'm a stranger now in my neighbourhood  
__I've seen the world at a faster pace  
__And I'm comin' now from a diff'rent place."_

He opens the hatch loft ladder, peaking around the dark room, without really knowing what he's looking for. It's not like his dad could have stored the old bedroom furniture here.

"_Though I may look the same way to you  
__Underneath there is somebody new."_

He sighs and studies himself in the mirror by the entrance door, really watching himself. He's the same, but he's completely different. Even if he styled his hair the usual way, put on some more signature appropriate clothes, gained some weight, and got rid of the black circles and pale skin, he'd still be different.

"_I am not  
__The boy next door  
__I don't belong  
__Like I did before  
__Nothin' ever seems like it used to be  
__You can have your dreams, but I can't have mine."_

The song forces its way out of Kurt's lip, like a tilted can of syrup slowly dripping from the edge of the kitchen counter.

Kurt didn't quite feel like he belonged before either, but at least then he had some fight in him. Now he feels even more outcasted and isolated from anybody else. They're graduating in six months, and he hasn't even applied to any colleges yet. The Glee members are gushing and chatting about their dreams and plans, but Kurt doesn't have anything anymore.

Wait, is that how the lyric goes?

"_Oh, I can't come back there anymore  
__'Cause I am not the boy next door."_

Kurt could give anything in this moment to be the boy next door. He's tired of being so visible, so translucent, so obvious, so different. Has it ever caused him anything but pain? He once believed that being different made him special, and that it was something taking pride in. But he sure got that beaten out of him. He tried, he really tried, to blend in and abandon his uniqueness. He quit Glee, he changed his wardrobe and exterior, he kept a low profile. It improved slightly, but not enough. The jocks and bullies already had him nailed for their creative attention and outlet. It was as if they had pinned him with some kind of transmitter, so they always knew where he was.

He can't take singing anymore, and leaves the mirror. He dries off the last tears while waiting for the coffee maker to finish its job.

Back in his room, he lies down under the covers to heat his more or less permanently cold body. He takes a swig of the hot beverage, and clears his voice as he reaches out for the phone. He needs a distraction.

"Kurt?" a sleep loaded voice answers him after a couple of rings.

"Oh god, I'm sorry Blaine, I didn't look at the clock before I called and forgot about the time differences. I'll call you back later."

"No, no, that's fine," Blaine murmurs, still seeming sleepy. "I should get up, so…"

"Then I really should let you go, so you can start your day."

"Please stay," Blaine almost begs. "This is a nice way to wake up. Besides, if I leave my room I'll have to face my family."

"Is everything OK?" Kurt asks worriedly. Of course he knows about Blaine's strained relationship with his parents, but it seems as if there may be something more going on.

"Relax, Kurt," Blaine chuckles. "It's just a bit weird to come back here. I've spent two weeks busy with school, where I really enjoy being, by the way. And I was almost used to being there after Bellefontaine, but then of course I have to stay here 24/7 for my winter break, and I'm still trying to get used to the new everything. It feels as if I'm a visitor in a house someone has told me is my home."

"I know," Kurt eagerly agrees. "I still have a lot of 'what the fuck?'-moments here."

Blaine's deep, honest laughter pleases Kurt.

"Such foul language, Mr. Hummel."

"Some situations justifies such language, Mr. Anderson," Kurt sassies back.

"You just be careful, or I'll have to come over and wash that mouth of yours," Blaine bites back.

"I really don't know if that's a threat or encouragement," Kurt blurts out, his mind instantly jumping to memorable images of kissing Blaine. "Anyway…" he coughs awkwardly.

"Yeah…" Blaine drawls, and Kurt can picture him looking downcast, scratching his head, and smiling sadly. Because Kurt managed to say something about seeing each other, when they in fact won't.

"How are you, Blaine?" Kurt asks after loudly swallowing a sip of coffee to let Blaine understand why he became silent.

"Less tired," Blaine teases.

"Seriously, Blaine. We always talk about how I am, and I always load all of my ranting and venting on your shoulders. I want to know how you are too, deep down. Talk to me."

"OK," Blaine relents, and Kurt can hear him take a deep breathe.

"Cooper picked me up quite late yesterday, because I spent time with my friends in school to celebrate exams being done for now. I think I did fairly well, considering the, ah, break in preparations and lectures, if I may call it so. So I got in bed really late, and now I'm trying to remember how it is to begin the day with a proper meal with my entire family, instead of gulping down a medium drip and run to my first class."

As if scheduled, Kurt can hear a knock in the background.

"Just a moment," Blaine apologizes into Kurt's ear, before he can't hear anything. Blaine's probably pressed the phone to his chest or pillow to talk privately with his family.

"I'm sorry, that was in fact my mom telling me lunch will be served in an hour and that I should end my hibernation."

"I'll let you go, then," Kurt offers, swallowing the disappointment. He _likes_ talking with Blaine, it's a nice distraction from life in Lima, and he honestly wanted to know something more profound about how Blaine is doing.

"Why? I'm not sleeping, so her wish is granted. Food is in an hour, and I don't need that much time. I'm splurging and treating myself to a lazy, casual day today."

"OK, but I want to make it clear that your mother's wrath is on your neck alone."

"I'm a big boy; I can handle the consequences of my action. Oh shush you," he scolds when Kurt can't hold back a snort.

"So your whole family is home for lunch?"

"Yeah. Coop is between auditions. Christmas time really isn't a busy time for struggling actors. Mom works from home, and father took time off from the office to have a family meal together. I think the season softens him up…" Blaine muses.

"How will it be, spending the winter break with your family?" Kurt asks carefully.

"As usual, I guess."

Kurt can practically see Blaine shrugging and avoiding eye contact.

"Superficial answer," he scolds him.

"I mean what I say. I assume Christmas will be as usual, I haven't heard rumours of any drastic change of plans."

"Do you enjoy the usual way you celebrate Christmas?" Kurt prods.

"I guess I'm not very much of a festive type of person. Christmas doesn't mean much to me. It's nice to have some weeks off of school; it'll give me the possibility to catch up on some reading for next semester."

"What season traditions do you have?" Kurt asks curiously, because how can someone not like and look forward to Christmas? He has, every single year. Up to now, at least.

"Well, as my father is a partner in the business, the entire family goes to the company party, where I'm being the cheerful, academically successful son, trying to avoid all the flirty daughters of his colleagues. Then we have a couple of family dinners. My grandparents, my uncle and my parents each host one evening, with exquisite crystal, polished silver wear, fragile china, stiff linen napkins, and tight ties. Family fly in from all over the country, and there's always a relative or two crashing here."

"And do you enjoy those dinners?"

"Of course," Blaine radiates politeness. "It's always nice to see family again, catching up and getting the latest news. And of course I am interested in my father's job, it is after all where I'll end up in a couple of years."

Blaine can't hide the bitterness in his voice from Kurt.

"Blaine, sweetie? Why don't you try answering that question again, and this time with honesty?"

* * *

When Burt comes home from work, he instantly knows something's wrong with his son. They way Kurt has curled up on himself on the couch, and is clutching to the quilt his late wife made is disturbing enough. When Kurt won't meet his father's eyes at all, it ejects all the red flags.

"You wanna tell me what's going on, kid?"

Burt wants to be gentle and careful with his son, but the last week has taught him that Kurt hates, detests being pussyfooted, and it only makes him explode in one of his characteristic diva fits. He may be hurting, but he still wants to be treated like a person, spoken directly to and respected. So Burt tries to do and be those things, even though it makes him fight against his paternal instincts. A part of him still wants to cradle his son, and protect him from everything and anything. But being honest and direct will get him further, he's realized and almost accepted.

"You kicked her out, just like that," Kurt growls angrily, showing Burt his red rimmed eyes.

OK. Kurt is angry. With him. Not many things can agitate his son in dimensions like this, where he's being openly honest instead of clamming shut. Burt will have to balance carefully.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asks, nodding at the couch Kurt is sprawled across.

"No," Kurt says, and doesn't move his legs.

Burt strangles a sigh and sits down in the chair next to his son.

He hadn't seen it immediately, but sharing his son's viewpoint, he notices the framed picture standing on the messy coffee table, among magazines, DVD's, newspapers, an empty coffee mug, and a half empty bag of potato chips. Kurt must be really upset if he hasn't cleaned up after himself all day, _and_ even eaten junk food.

The picture explains it all, though.

It's taken on Kurt's fifth birthday. He's sitting on his mother's lap on the piano stool, four eager hands spread on the keys. Kurt has turned his head backwards to face his mother, and they are grinning so honest and spontaneous to each other. Burt had been lucky to capture that on film.

Elizabeth had insisted they give their son a piano. And not some baby blue fool-around-with-piano with 20 something keys. Not even a simple battery powered synthesizer with three full accords. No, Elizabeth had insisted on a god damn upright piano. And how could Burt object? She'd argued it was a gift for Kurt's future, a gift he could cherish all his life, and let his children inherit. Giving Kurt the piano wasn't just about giving him an instrument; it was about giving him a gift and a new love. _Music_.

So Burt relented, and for Kurt's fifth birthday he got some Lego, a pair of sensible heels with matching tiara, a couple of DVD's – and a shining mahogany upright piano. It was bought used, of course, money was always an issue. Burt had still been working hard to establish his garage, and sometimes it felt like the cash flow out was steadier than what trickled in. Eventually the business got solid. But that's a story for another year. The transportation of the piano would have cost more than the god damn piano itself did, if they'd had to use a moving company. But the guys at the garage offered to help the Hummel's. They all adored the little kid, who'd run around in the garage with his own coveralls, offering paper towels to clean up smudges in the mechanics' faces when they rolled out from under a car. He'd sing that song from _Sound of Music_ Elizabeth and he always sang before going to bed. But he'd make up his own lyrics, and sing about Do for doors, Mi for Mitsubishi, and So for socket sets, while skipping around with tools and "assisting" the guys. Of course the guys were charmed. Of course they loved him. Of course they offered to get the piano home, even though they had to bring it down from fifth floor without an elevator.

The look on Kurt's face when he woke up on his birthday, and realized he'd gotten a real, pure, honest, grown up's piano? Priceless, something Burt won't forget no matter how demented he may end up.

When it came to instruments, Burt had 12 thumbs and no ear. But he loved listening to Elizabeth and Kurt practice and play together. Two years later, Kurt was allowed to take piano lessons, but was of course on an advanced level compared to the other newbies. Kurt had loved playing the piano, and Burt hopes he hasn't lost all his love for music. Kurt avoided the piano for a week when Elizabeth died, but after the funeral he sat down to play, and didn't leave the keys for three hours. After that, the piano had been the most treasured possession he had to remember his mother by. That, and the dresser he visits to sniff in the master bedroom, of course.

_Oh._

"You've seen the changes in the bedroom?" he asks, painfully careful to avoid any hint of accusation. That'll scare Kurt off for sure.

Kurt's nod is barely there, but Burt sees it.

"Put on some shoes and come with me," he says, and goes to the hallway to pick up a key.

He leaves the house, feeling confident his son will follow him.

He's right. Kurt's right behind him, looking a mixture of heartbroken, angry, and curious.

Burt unlocks the garage door and steps in, expecting Kurt to follow. He fumbles by the wall in the dark, before he finds the light switch.

Kurt's Navigator takes up most of the space. Because it hasn't been used for a couple of months, Burt decided to let it stay in there, for protection and warmth in the cold winter. Now there are four cars in the household, and not enough space. Last one home has to park on the curb, while two cars can fit in the driveway. The garage is a double, but the Navigator is bigger than the car they estimated garages for when it was built in the 1950s. The rest of the space is used for storage.

Burt silently points at the dresser, which is standing on a thick blanket and is carefully wrapped up in bubble wrap. Kurt drops to his knees in front of it, and reverently peels off the plastic, until he can open one of the drawers.

Burt can see how his son inhales – eyes closing, chest filling with the cold air scented with his _mom_, and then he all but collapses in front of it.

Burt leaves him then.

* * *

By the time Kurt goes back inside, Carole's home from work. Finn is setting the table, Burt is stationed by the oven stirring in a kettle to prevent the sauce burning, and Carole is preparing the rest of the dinner. Burt and Carole navigate and move around each other in a way that shows it isn't the first time Burt is helping out with the dinner preparations.

Kurt goes directly to the bathroom to wash his tear soaked face and dusty hands.

When the four of them are gathered around the kitchen table, Burt clears his voice, looking uncomfortable. Carole pats his shoulder in a reassuring pattern.

"Kids, we need to talk."

"Well, that's always a comforting way to launch a conversation," Kurt mutters.

His dad doesn't say anything, doesn't even look in that pointed way at Kurt to silently tell him off he does so well.

"In ten days we're supposed to get married," he says instead.

"Wait, are you guys breaking up?" Finn asks startled. He's been on the receiving end of the "we need to talk"-conversation one too many times.

"We want to join our families. We want to make a new family. We want to be happy. But we won't do it if it hurts any of you," Burt says calmly, holding his fiancées hand to ground him.

"We thought it might be an idea to talk about this as a family, before we take the final step. We haven't asked any of you how you feel about this. Burt and I love each other, and want this very much. But we realize it'll affect you as well."

"We want you to talk with us. And we have things we want to say as well," Burt adds.

"I don't intend to try replacing your mother," Carole says softly, reaching her other hand across the table towards Kurt. "I can never be your mother. I want to be your Carole."

Kurt hesitantly lets go of the fork, and lets his hand meet Carole on the middle of the table.

"I love you," she whispers, but Kurt can't return the words right now.

"That goes for me too," Burt says mostly to Finn. "You're a wonderful young man, even without a father figure. Carole has loved and cared for you all these years. I'd be honoured to call you my family, but I'm not gonna try to replace 15 years without a dad."

Finn smiles goofily.

"You're really cool, Burt, and yeah, we're family," he grins.

"You're both amazing," Carole emphasizes, looking pointedly at Kurt.

He tightens his grip on her hand.

"Just because we want us four people to become a new family, doesn't mean we'll erase what once was."

Burt holds up a hand to stop Kurt, who's taken a deep breathe to say something.

"Please, hear me out, son."

Their eyes meet, communicating silently, and Burt continues.

"We're not gonna hide our history. We've tried to make room for our past in this house, and that's our goal when we find a bigger house. I hope you've noticed there are old pictures and memorials spread around the house. We've tried to join these two families, collecting the best from both, and treasuring both families' memories."

Kurt opens his mouth to say something again, but Burt looks sternly at him.

"I have one more thing to say. We haven't done much redecorating in the house, because we're still looking for a bigger home. But Carole and I decided to give ourselves a brand new bedroom. We, our relationship, deserve it. We gave us a new beginning, to make it _our_ bedroom, not Elizabeth, Carole and my bedroom. It's only fair. We…" And now Burt is kind of blushing and stuttering.

"We still love your parents. But while treasuring their memories, we also want to move on. So we wanted that room to be just for us," Carole supplements.

"The bedroom furniture, and anything else Carole and I have removed from the two houses, is stored in the garage. We would never dream of throwing anything away before you've had the chance to have a word in the process. If there are things that are important for you, we want you to have it. If there are things you want to keep for the future, do that. You guys can bring it down to your room, or we can store it here, or down in the shop. That's not a problem. We're beginning a new family, but we ain't gonna erase the past."

Burt's voice is gruff, and Kurt leaps out of his chair to embrace his father.

"I'm sorry," he whispers brokenly, tears trickling down his cheeks.

"I know, it's OK", Burt says back, lovingly patting his son's back.

Kurt gives Carole a hug too, before sitting down by his cold dinner again.

"So yeah, we want to get married, but if you have any objections we'd like if you'd announce them now, and not when the minister asks. I'm gonna give my new wife a first dance to remember, and am working on my boogie moves. But if I'm not gonna get married, I'd like to save my feet from all of that."

* * *

Later that evening, Kurt gives Burt and Carole his blessings through wet eyes and shy smiles.

* * *

The hook where the garage key is usually hanging is often found bare after that, even when all cars in use are parked outside. Burt still refuses Kurt to drive on his own, not trusting his concentration and reaction abilities. A tiny part of him is also afraid that Kurt might do something stupid behind the wheels, if he's having a particularly bad day. So he's hidden the car keys, to protect his son.

One day Kurt steps into the garage to lie down and calm himself through the scent of his mom, a pillow and a thick blanket is nestled on top of the dresser. Kurt is thankful when he unfolds it. Now he can rest more comfortable in front of his mom, and stay for longer periods of time before his aching and cold body chases him inside.

He lights the candle he brought the first time he went to the dresser alone, never having switched the light on.

"I miss you, mom. I miss being happy," he whispers into the darkness.

* * *

"Oh, good morning, miss… mrs… I'm so sorry, but I can't remember ever having been told your last name," Kurt apologizes, feeling embarrassed and still groggy from the literal wake up call.

"That's all right, Kurt," the gentle female voice says. "You called me Christy in the ward, and you can call me Christy outside of the ward as well."

"OK, _Christy_," Kurt pronounces, "to what do I own the honour?"

He feels more awake now, and shuffles around in bed as silently as possible to get comfortable against the headrest of his bed. He doesn't want to reveal that she caught him still in bed, when it's this late, but nightmares disrupted his sleep.

"As doctor Whimchester and Thomas explained for you, your therapy will continue after your discharge, and I'm calling to work out how we'll do this."

"Oh, OK," Kurt stutters. He'd forgotten all about that in the ruckus and whirlwind of being home.

"I don't mind doing some counselling over the phone, but the effect will be much better if we can meet face to face."

"Dad won't let me drive yet, so I would have to check with him when someone can take me to Bellefontaine," Kurt explains, holding back a sigh. He feels so dependent, like a little child, with the car keys revoked from him.

"In situations like these, I usually come to the teenager's school, so we can have a session between classes. Surreptitiously, of course. So, I know the winter break started this week. I want to discuss with you when you're going back to school, and if we can find a spot for our conversations in your schedule."

"I'm afraid I don't know the answers to those questions, you'd have to talk with my dad. He's talked about transferring me, and is still researching that," Kurt says apologetically. A part of him should be in more control of his own life, while another part of him is quite relieved to see someone take charge and unload off of him some of the more pressing matters at hand.

"Transferring? That _is_ interesting. You're right; I should talk to your father. OK, we can talk details later. Let's talk about you, instead. How are you, Kurt?"

"Don't you have any easier questions?" he sighs.

"Now where's the fun in that?" she chuckles.

So Kurt tells Christy about how it is to be home, what he's done and thought. He tells about the turmoil of feelings for Carole and Burt; how glad he is for their happiness and the upcoming wedding he's helping them with, but how it makes him miss his mom even more than usual. He talks about Carole taking him shopping, and how he longs to be able to breathe normally while in public in Lima. He mentions how weird it was to meet Charlie and see his scars, because he looked so cheerful and relatively normal, not at all how Kurt feels. Kurt's never seen himself as some emo sad pathetic gay who cuts himself to drown in his own misery. And yet, here he is.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself for your suicide attempt," Christy gently scolds him. "It doesn't make you weak or pathetic, it only means you've tried to be too strong for too long."

"But it's such a cliché," Kurt whines, "being the bullied gay kid who ends up slashing his wrist. And I didn't even succeed in that."

"Which we all are very glad for," Christy hurriedly adds. "Did you know that every fifth high school student has seriously considered attempting suicide, and every seventh student has actually tried? Think about the classrooms and hallways in your school, Kurt. You'd never be able to pinpoint all of them. Depression happens to anyone, and it doesn't make you a stereotype, pathetic, weak, or any other negative characterization you may be branding yourself with."

"Although I realistically realize there are others in school who struggle with depression, I still feel alone. And too visible. It's as if everybody can see it on me, and know what I did."

"How do you feel about the school transfer your father is looking into?"

"Conflicted," Kurt eventually answers, after searching for the right answer. "I do have friends at McKinley. But a new school might give me a fresh beginning. Or just offer me the same hell, with a different wrapping."

"You still have time to think about it, I'm sure your father and you will find a good solution. I'd be glad to offer advice if you need. So, tell me about the upcoming wedding, which flowers have you decided on?"

* * *

Carole keeps Kurt busy the next days before Christmas. Strike that. She keeps the entire family busy.

"Christmas is a family holiday, and we should both prepare and celebrate it as a family," she argues, and occupies the three men with different tasks. Together, they complete the various tasks of cleaning the house, iron the table cloths, decorate for Christmas, do grocery shopping, wrap up gifts, visit some elderly neighbours with casseroles, drop by distant relatives with cookies and presents, bake said cookies, bake more cookies after Finn found the hiding place, and so on.

The house looks as Christmas exploded, and nobody visiting can ever doubt that this family consists of real Christmas junkies. They change both table clothes and curtains for something more fitting for these days. Even in the bathroom they have white towels with mistletoe decoration. At least they were white, until Finn washed them with some red curtains. All candles are changed to bright red or silver. Tiny Santas, angels and snowmen can be found on every table, shelf, corner and unthinkable spot.

They have at least five big boxes with decoration, and they playfully dig in and place the items wherever they want. Few things need to be done the same from year to year, and all four of them summon their inner child for this. Finn has found some reindeers, and run to the bathroom to pick up cotton pads. He claims they need snow to be happy, and then he places a Santa in his loaded sleigh next to the reindeers. They will soon be ready for take off, Finn claims with a wink. Kurt gathers some of the angel figurines, making them stand in a semi circle like a choir. The prettiest one is their lead singer, standing up front in the middle. He names her Elizabeth.

They decorate the tree together, though. A Christmas CD is playing in the background, while the four of them lovingly unwrap the different ornaments. There are boxes from both the Hudson and the Hummel households. Some of the glittery objects need an explanation, a story to be shared, before it can find its place on a branch. Finn blushes with embarrassment as Carole tells them about the football playing Santa he'd made from toilet paper rolls when he was ten. Burt returns the gesture, and shows the bedazzled and sparkling white snowmen Kurt had been considerate enough to upgrade to make them seem less bland in this festive season, when he was nine. There are the brittle and delicate angels Kurt's mom bought for the first Christmas the three of them celebrated together. There are the intricate, handmade paper stars they inherited from Christopher's mother; Finn's grandmother.

But there are also the brand new shiny ornaments they went to the store to buy together, after democratic and diplomatic quarrels to agree on something all four of them liked. For even though they have their memories and traditions compromising and blending together, Burt and Carole also insisted on making their own traditions and mementos together, the four Hudmels.

Amidst soft chatter, nostalgic smiles and dreamy eyes, the music wraps them in a cashmere soft embrace, calming all four of them down, sinking their shoulders, opening their hearts, and enabling them for a couple of nice days together.

Kurt startles when he discovers that the crystal clear, vibrant voice reaching the high notes actually is his own. He quickly darts his eyes between his dad, Carole and Finn, but nobody seem to have heard him. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and sings the last verse under his breathe.

_"We're walking in the air, we're floating in a midnight sky  
__And everyone who sees us, greets us as we fly  
__I'm holding very, holding very tight, I'm riding in a midnight blue  
__I'm finding I can fly, so high above with you."_

Singing Christmas carols with his mom while decorating the tree was a constant, a given, for Kurt and Elizabeth. They'd laugh and sing, dance and twirl. They needed at least five CDs of Christmas music before the tree was done, and they loved taking their time. The first Christmas after his mom passed away, Burt and Kurt decorated the tree in silence. The next year, however, Kurt came up to the living room with a mixed CD he'd made with Elizabeth's favourite carols. Father and son listened to it while decorating the tree, and eventually they managed to sing along as well. Kurt would let loose and let go, and dance along, and from then on it was far from unusual to find him singing and dancing. Music became his life. But now it's been months and months since he's opened his mouth at home or moved his feet to do anything more graceful than cross the room or descend the stairs.

Sharing a room with Finn has given him less privacy, and maybe he'd try letting music embrace him, captivate him and free him again on his own. But for now, he sings softly, hidden between branches and tinsel, almost muted so nobody can hear him.

He doesn't see the happy, shiny eyes on his father's face, and the look the man shares with his fiancée.

Christmas morning, they cuddle up in their PJs and robes under throws, with freshly brewed coffee and four stockings brimming with gifts. They take it slow, so everybody can see what the others get, and there are warm, honest hugs thanking for the thoughtful gifts. Kurt can't help but smile. Not because of his pile of presents, but because it is actually a very nice morning, and it feels good to smile.

He tries not to be sad, not to be bitter, not to be condescending when Carole and he prepare the Christmas dinner. Sure, the gravy will without doubt be good. But it's not how he'd made it. And are they using apples in the stuffing? He's been responsible for Christmas dinner for so many years, and finds it difficult to let loose of some of the control. He doesn't doubt Carole knows what she's doing. But she's not doing what he'd be doing. And why can't they make tart tatin for dessert? They always have that on Christmas, but it doesn't seem to be on Carole's to do-list. Kurt simply hasn't got any fight in himself to protect his interests, so he inwardly resigns and slumps, offering Carole a helping hand without commenting much.

In the end, it's Burt who addresses them in the kitchen, wondering if they'll be making the "upside-down apple thingy" for dessert. Kurt could float through the air like the snowman, and grinningly offers to make it while the potatoes boil.

Christmas dinner is a calm, nice and safe occasion. Burt and Carole had decided not to invite any other family members for this day. They'll have the assortment of aunts, uncles and cousins over later. But tonight, they just want to be family, getting to know each other even better, create their own traditions, and also keeping things calmer for Kurt's sake. But nobody minds the laidback but delicious dinner, with easy chatter, teasing and jokes. After dinner and a healthy stroll in the snow, they gather in front of the TV to watch _Love Actually_ with a box of Ben & Jerry in each lap.

The next days are spent enjoying their new gifts - some DVDs Kurt can't wait to see, and some clothes that he can't help but admire, even though he still can praise his Finnesque wardrobe highly in terms of school clothes. Carole has found jeans matching the shirt she bought for him earlier. They are steel grey, tight fitted, low slung, with diagonally cut tears across the thighs like marks from a clawing tiger paw, showing off fabric underneath that resembles the fabric of the shirt. From Santa he gets fingerless leather gloves, which happen to have enough wrist coverage to hide his scar as well.

One sunny day is spent in the park with the entire New Directions, sleighing and having fun in the snow. After a couple of hours, two burly figures with the noticeable leather jackets cross their path 30 feet away, but that's enough to freeze Kurt. Without knowing it, he trembles, and can't move his eyes away from the moving figures who have yet to notice him. The girls are bundled up on the same big sleigh, on their way down the hill. Most of the guys are busy with a snowball fight. Puck is the one standing closest to Kurt.

"Guys, Hummel's promised to make his orgasmic hot chocolate, so we head home now to make sure you greedy dawgs don't empty the kettle before I can get my fill. See you later, dudes!" he shouts at the others, wraps an arm around Kurt's shoulders, and steers the trembling boy back home.

Puck gets extra marshmallows and a shot of whiskey in his hot chocolate.

* * *

_I sang Walking in the Air. In the living room. With people present. Christmas can't be healthy for my inhibitions. _

Blaine smiles fondly at the text from Kurt. He knows exactly how hesitant the boy has been to sing in front of others, and what a strained relationship he has to music. Whenever he's willingly sung something together with or for Blaine, he's treated it like a treasure, like a precious gift.

_I bet you sound amazing!_

There's no need pointing out what an accomplishment it is, how good it is to hear Kurt is making progress. Kurt already knows, and Blaine doesn't want to make him feel self-conscious about letting his guard down.

Blaine tucks the phone away, and finishes getting ready. He double checks in the mirror that his scarf is tucked properly, brushes the tip of his newly polished shoes with a moist paper towel, and then waits for his father to join him. They will be driving around to the most important clients, to personally hand out the pre-made Christmas cards, where every signature from the partners in the firm is scanned and printed directly on the cards. They look authentic; the copy centre is good. But if you look carefully, there are no indentations in the cardboard, and if you compare, the signatures in the various cards are too identical and without character. Much like the smiles the older Anderson will offer at each stop they make.

It's late when they come back, and Blaine is exhausted from playing the part of the dapper, polite, dutiful, charming son. A part of him just wants to go to sleep, but Christmas only happens once a year, after all, so he should try to cherish it. After having looked for Cooper in his wing of the house, by the pool table in the basement, in the fridge in the kitchen, and in the library, he finally asks his mom where the big brother is. Turns out, there's an important party he needed to attend, to bond and network, drop his name here and there, and kiss some asses.

The house has been decorated for Christmas while Blaine was out with his father. The tree is big, perfectly symmetrical, and probably trimmed to get the right shape. This year, it is decorated with two dozen identical light blue ornaments, silver tinsel, and electric lightning that look like fake candle lights. The tree topper is the same each year, though. The porcelain angel was a gift from his mom's Italian, catholic grandparents. Blaine's never liked the angel. Her eyes look judgmental, and sometimes it feels as if her gaze follows you across the big dining room.

Except for the tree and an opulent wreath on the front door, not much else shows tis the season to be jolly. The maid has begun preparations for the dinner, though; it's only two days away. Floor, walls and ceiling have been washed, and the smell of soap fills the house. The extensions for the dining table have been brought from storage, to make room for all their dinner guests at the Christmas celebration. By then, the maid will have decked the table with the white heirloom damask tablecloth from Blaine's grandparents, the silverware will be polished, the crystal goblets will be sparkling, the lavish floral centrepiece will have arrived from the florist, the cook will have worked all day to prepare dinner for 17, 21 or however many they will be this year, the candelabras will be lit, and Blaine will be smiling until his cheek bones hurt, with his hair gelled beyond recognition, his bowties unwanted for the day, and a brand new and boring tuxedo. The new shoes will give him blisters. He'll be a polite and captivated conversationalist all day, blowing the cocktail drinking guests away with his maturity; he is after all only 17 years old. The guest will probably be some partner with his wife, some important clients with their plus one, his uncles and aunts on his father's side, the old widowed neighbour, and sometimes a friend of Cooper to lower the average age in the room.

Not until everybody's left late that night, will he have time to take a closer look at the pile of gifts resting on his desk. Most of them will be envelopes.

Blaine's predictions about their Christmas Eve were correct, on the dot. He'd almost forgotten how it actually felt, to be a part of a crowd like that, but the evening was really young when he remembered. He'd felt his father's eyes on him, a gaze who demanded him to live up to the expectations. Which Blaine thinks he did. His father's lack of praise is the closest he'll get to know if he succeeded. His father is good at giving feedback, but only when there's room for improvement.

Blaine hasn't heard anything from his father, but he had to go back to his office already on the 26th, work would be piling if he took any more time off. Cooper is at some early party, probably seducing some blonde knock-out with his true and mostly less true stories from The Alluring Hollywood Life of Cooper Anderson. He finds his mom in the living room, curled up in a comfortable chair under a thick wool blanket. She's on the phone with her family. Blaine gets the gist of the conversation, but they're speaking too fast. He can read Italian fluently, and he can talk it fairly well. But the chances he gets to speak it are few and far between, so he's out of practice. Listening to or participating in conversations with native Italians are a strain, sadly. He's tried to explain it to his grandparents on the phone, but they're always so excited to hear him, and forget to slow down. So they end up repeating themselves several times, and Blaine gets flustered from feeling inadequate, and adds a lot of English, disappointing himself because he really does know how to speak Italian. He merely can't set any records in speed talking. He gestures for his mom to send his love through the phone, and adds a couple of logs to the fire hoping it'll warm his seemingly permanently shivering cold mother, before he leaves the room.

The rest of the Christmas week is spent with homework to catch up after his stay in Bellefontaine and prepare for a new semester, he reads some fiction, texts with Kurt, talk with his friends on the phone to hear about their wonderful Christmases, has dinner with his extended family, talks with his relatives in Italy, and makes sure his mother is fine while his father is working and the maid is celebrating a belated Christmas with _her_ family.

* * *

_Happy new year, Blaine! May 2012 be everything you need and want._

_Uhuh, you're cheating, it's not next year yet. It's not even nine PM._

_It's not my fault you're so slow over there. How are you spending the journey to a new year, anyway?_

_Disneyland with Coop, of course!_

_Of course. Play nice with the kids, you hear me?_

_But they tease me!_

_For being short?_

_I'll show you short!_

Kurt laughs out loud when he sees the picture Blaine sent.

_Funny trick mirror doesn't count! ;)_

* * *

_Happy New Year, Kurt! I wish you all the best for 2012. XO_

* * *

Everything is taken care of for the wedding. They have a late ceremony, to avoid hung over guests, so it's a calm morning for the Hudson's and Hummel's. They're keeping it laidback, casual, but still festive and happy.

Mercedes and Tina are on their way to help Carole with her hair and make up. When they arrive, Finn and Mike will take Burt out of the house. Kurt had said he doesn't care where they end up, as long as he doesn't see his bride before the ceremony, and doesn't come late. He'd given Mike that responsibility, because he's the most well-dressed, mature and trustworthy guy in New Directions. He also knows how to tie a tie, if Burt needs help with that.

All of the New Directions had offered their assistance for this wedding. They love both Finn and Kurt, and have been in and out of both boys' houses, and lately both boys' _house_. They know Burt and Carole well; to some of the singers they're like an extra set of uncle and aunt. The cool variety. So there was no doubt they'd step up and contribute.

Artie has directed an opening number to introduce the wedding ceremony, with choreographic input from Mike and Brittany. Puck and Santana had both offered to organize bachelor(et) parties for the groom and bride, although both Finn and Kurt more or less, mostly less, politely declined.

Mr. Schue had been ecstatic, and together with Rachel helped the Glee club prepare solos, duets and group numbers to entertain the guests during dinner. Sam and Quinn have compiled a CD with wedding appropriate music.

Kurt is spending the last minutes before he has to do anything, with the love of his life. Lying on a blanket on the concrete floor, with eyes closed, inhaling deeply, and letting happy memories wash over him.

That's how Finn finds him.

"Umm, Carole said you might be here. What you're doing, man?"

Kurt slowly sits up, and blows out the candle. It isn't needed, when Finn switched on the electric lightning.

"I know it's stupid. It's my mom's broken dresser, and it still smells like her perfume. So I sneak in there, and open all the drawers, and lie on the floor, close my eyes and just smell her."

"It's not stupid," Finn crouches down by his smaller-bigger-brother, to console him. "It's like me and my dad's chair, you know. Even though I don't remember him, having that chair is like still having a part of him. You're lucky; you have a lot of memories. I only have things."

Finn sits down completely, wraps an arm around Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt rests his head on Finn. It's actually kind of amazing how far they've come.

"That's why I'm so excited to make memories with Burt. He's _your_ dad," Finn emphasizes. "But I love him too, you know."

And Kurt knows. He remembers how upset Finn had been when he was the last to know that Burt was in the hospital with a heart attack. And he sees how they act together. Kurt is past his jealousy and insecurities in that department. No matter how literally depressed he can be, he still believes in his father's love for him.

"Thank you, Finn."

"Ready to make a family?"

Kurt smiles and jumps up. Despite being both on the football team and in Glee, Finn's not very athletic, so Kurt gives him a hand to get up.

The ceremony is short, touching, funny, to the point ("You bet I do", "Oh yes I do, yes I do"), and Kurt had agreed to be his dad's best man, but kept a low profile during the rest of the ceremony. Of course this day should be for his dad and Carole. But he didn't feel comfortable with any attention, even though the reception was private and intimate. He didn't want to step up on a stage and do a solo, he didn't want to give his dad a long speech (so he settled with a heartfelt "Thank you, I love you"-kind of speech to the both of them), and he was glad he didn't have to escort his dad up the isle to give him away to Carole – which Rachel had suggested, because it was an important feminist step towards equality. No. Just, no.

New Directions perform romantic ballads and up beat dance numbers. But then they all clear the stage, and Finn takes the microphone.

He wants to sing to Kurt, and not only that – he's going to dance with him? Kurt blushes ferociously, and panics. He plasters on a big smile, the awkward one that always pops up from nowhere whenever he feels embarrassed, put on the spot, uncomfortable, nervous.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," he stutters and shakes his head, but Finn is relentless.

Kurt can't do this, even after Finn nicknaming them _Furt_.

But then Finn begins to sing, backed up by the rest of New Directions, and when he gives Kurt his hand, he can't not take it. Finn leaves him standing alone and awkwardly on the dance floor for a moment, but then Mercedes and Rachel giddily pushes him towards his brother. In Finn's strong, but clumsy grip, Kurt can feel safe. They hug, and for the first time today after Kurt left his mom's dresser he feels calm and collected. They split up to engage their respective parent in a dance, and Kurt beams. Becoming a family isn't the worst that could happen to him.

* * *

Kurt is enjoying the silence and solitude in the empty house. Dad and Carole are at work, and Finn is at a strategy meeting Rachel had summoned before the new semester and preparations for Regionals start next week.

He's found his bedazzler, the seven scrabble-letters he got from Blaine, and his basket with random craft equipment and scrap material. He wants to do something creative with the Courage Blaine gave him, he wants to make something enabling him to take care of both the letters and the message.

He's rummaging through various left over fabric pieces, wondering if ay of them can work as a background in a frame.

"Kurt? You down there?"

His dad's shout startles him, and he drops a pile of fabric samples on the floor, but he answers effortlessly anyway.

Kurt listens to the stomps of his dad's feet descending the stairs.

"Dad, why are you home now?" He tries to show calmness, but he's really worried.

"Son, we need to talk," Burt says calmly, and sits down on Kurt's bed. "I got a phone call from McKinley during my lunch, and went straight home."

"Who did you talk with?" Kurt asks hesitantly.

"Coach Sylvester," Burt says sternly. "She wants changes at school; she wants to do something with the bullying. But she realizes you need changes like yesterday, so she came up with a suggestion."

Kurt remembers his dad mentioning the coach had offered to do some research among her contacts and network after his last visit at McKinley.

"So what's the plan?" Kurt sighs, not being able to imagine anything even Sue Sylvester could do to improve his conditions at that hellhole of a school.

"She knows a school where the principal owns her a favour."

* * *

_Dad has enrolled me to some private school._

_What are you thinking?_

_Farewell, wonderful clothes. Greetings, monotonous uniform._

_What are you really thinking?_

_Too much. Not enough._

_Courage._

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

The Boy from Oz – _Not The Boy Next Door_

The Snowman – _Walking in the Air_


	32. Transition

**AN: Wow, I'm blown away by the feedback I got from last chapter, and I've tried to answer each and every single one of you. It's thrilling that you give me input on where you think Kurt should transfer, how he should meet Blaine again, and expresses your wishes for these boys. I'll be disappointing some of you today, but hopefully some of you will be glad as well - this turn of event in the storyline has been intended all the time.**

**Christmas is coming up, and I'll be super busy with friends and family. I really don't know if I'll have time to do any writing, and worst case scenario this is the last chapter I get to upload this year. I'd rather give you a pleasant surprise than disappoint you, so we probably won't meet up again until 2013. So, with that said, I wish all of you a wonderful Christmas, or season greetings, and may 2013 be a great year for all of us!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything else you might recognize.**

* * *

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Even though Kurt is pressed for time, he accepts the incoming Skype call from Blaine, sick and tired of what he's been doing for the last two days, and in dire need of a distraction.

"I'm rearranging my life."

Blaine chuckles.

"Don't we all at some time? How do you approach such a minor task?"

"It's only two more days until I move to my new school, so I'm packing. It's impossible to decide what I'll need and what can stay."

"Oh, are you going to a boarding school?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you?"

Blaine shakes his head obviously confused.

"It's too far away to commute. I'm trying to pack only my important things. But you know what?"

Blaine shakes his head again, less confused and more amused.

"ALL my stuff is important!" Kurt pouts, making Blaine laugh.

"Well, I'm used to moving, so maybe I can give you some advice?"

The boys talk eagerly about the bare necessities for a long time, until they approach the topic of clothes.

"You'll be surprised how often you end up wearing the uniform or school clothes, Kurt. After classes tends to be pretty laidback in a boarding school, and no one dresses up."

"Oh my God!" Kurt squeals. "I should have known you're a private school-boy, with all your preppy, dapper gentleman-ness."

"Hey, I've been in public school too!"

Kurt feels guilty for a moment. He clearly remembers Blaine breaking down and telling him about the attack after the Sadie Hawkins-dance, and how he'd transferred after that.

"Anyway, I am _never_ laidback when it comes to clothes."

"Do you feel differently about transferring now?"

"It certainly is more real now. A part of me feels as if I'm standing on top of a water fall, and I know somebody will push me, I just don't know when it'll happen and how it'll end."

"That good, huh?"

"I don't know. I hope it won't be terrible. But I'll miss my friends, and I knew what I had to deal with in my old school. I'm not so eager for the unknown, I guess."

"Did you have anything to say in this decision?" Blaine is sitting with his head tilted, paying attention to what Kurt is saying.

"I did. But at the same time I knew how badly my dad wanted me to say yes, and I couldn't disappoint him. So it didn't feel as much of a choice."

"I'm sure you'll do great. I experienced transferring as a great relief, at least. And I'm always only a phone call away, if you need someone to talk to. And I bet your friends will be there for you as well."

"Yeah…"

"Have you seen the uniform yet?"

"Actually, I haven't, but I'll drop out instantly if it's brown with green piping or something awful like that," Kurt shudders, grateful for the change of topic.

Blaine laughs out loud at Kurt's disgusted expression.

"Well, let's hope it's more classic, then."

"Hey Blaine, can I ask you something?" Kurt chews on his lower lip, afraid he'll cross some boundaries.

"Always," Blaine says softly, looking him straight in the eyes.

"It's just that… Christy has called me a couple of times, and we'll continue with the therapy once I'm settled in school. She's already talked with the principal to sort out how they can accommodate the rest of my senior year in the best possible way. She'll meet me there for our sessions."

"You wonder if I still go to therapy?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind me asking."

"Kurt, we're beyond the point where we can't ask each other these questions. I think I know more about your therapy than your true fashion sense, and that's saying a lot, considering how much you've admitted to love clothes."

"OK," Kurt groans. "I just don't want to offend you in any way."

"Do you even remember where we met? How can I be offended by something we share?" Blaine looks amused, but also concerned.

"It's just… weird to talk about. It's not exactly a regular topic for conversation." Kurt hides his face in his hands.

"Do you talk about these things with anybody else than Christy?"

"Not really."

Blaine nods, but is silent for a moment.

"I've chosen to be open and honest with my closest friends about this. It makes it easier to be friends, because I improve the odds they'll understand me, and it's strengthened our relationships."

Kurt nods to show he's listening, and he remembers Blaine telling about how his friends had once made sure he got help at Bellefontaine when he was regressing.

"I don't talk about my mental health with my father. I tell my mom some things. And I can talk with my brother to a certain level. He says and does things nobody else does, and that can be both good and infuriating."

Blaine chuckles in a way that makes Kurt want to experience this brother of his in real life.

"So you don't go to therapy?"

"Not anymore. I had doctor Whimchester on speed dial the first time I was discharged from Bellefontaine, and I talked with Christy regularly. I guess my situation was different from yours. And now I get by without staying in touch with them – but they've also given me tools I use to cope on my bad days."

"Do they always work? The tools?"

"No," Blaine shakes his head sadly.

"Good," Kurt exhales. "Oh, no, not for you, but for me," he hurriedly adds. "Some days are so bad it feels as if nothing can ever be better, and I try to think and do as Christy encourages me to, but I just _can't_."

"With the risk of sound like an add for _The Trevor Project_ – but it does get better, Kurt. You just have to give it time."

"I guess time is what I have most of at the moment. That, and empty boxes."

"I'm keeping you away from your packing."

"That's OK. I think you might be more important than some of my clothes," Kurt winks.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Blaine grins.

"Oh, you should. By all means, you should!"

* * *

The next day, all of the New Directions show up. They're bringing pizza, potato chips, homemade cookies so fresh they still smell straight out of the oven, and endless amounts of soda.

"We're throwing a farewell-party, duh!" Puck rolls his eyes at Kurt's questioning glare.

Burt and Carole are obviously in on the plan, and it doesn't take long before they disappear for an improvised date to let the teenagers have the house on their own.

"OK, first things first," Rachel announces, clapping her hands. "Are you done packing?"

Bewildered and overwhelmed, Kurt nods.

"Good, then we can load the car with your stuff, so that's done with. Boys, come on," she shoos them downstairs to start the manual labour.

Finn, Sam, Puck and Mike run down the stairs to start loading Kurt's stuff.

"Oh God," Kurt mumbles, and hurries after them to make sure they understand which boxes must be treated with delicacy.

"This is stupid, we can carry boxes as well," Tina mutters, and together with Mercedes they follow the boys downstairs.

Santana, Brittany and Quinn head for the kitchen to prepare the food and snacks, and Artie works on plugging his laptop to the speakers, so they can play music from his Spotify-lists.

Finn's gotten Kurt's car keys from Burt, and they fill the Navigator with everything Kurt's packed. Working together as a team, it only takes them 20 minutes, and all that's left for next morning is Kurt's toiletries and laptop.

The evening ends far too soon, and Kurt has surprised himself with the amount of smiles and laughter he's given. They've shared memories, teased each other as usual, planned the next party, and found out how to stay in touch with Kurt as much as possible.

"We have a little something for you," Mercedes says right before they have to leave, and hands over a square, thin gift.

Kurt peals off the paper carefully, plucking on the glue tape to not rip the paper. It reveals a leather bound book. Kurt curiously opens it, and squeals when he discovers they've made him a scrap book. All the pages are filled with pictures, drawings, drabbles, poems, quotes, memories in key words, loving notes, and even some mementoes. It's clear that all of them have contributed and participated to make this.

"Thank you so much, guys!" he chokes, eyes filling with tears. "It's gorgeous. You… You are amazing. _Thank you!_" He makes sure to look at all of them, hoping they can see how thankful he really is.

Then they have to go, and one by one they hug him, before disappearing out of the door.

"I hope we'll see you on stage as our competition. They have a great Glee club," Rachel smiles teary eyed.

"Don't hold your breath," Kurt replies, patting her back.

"We'll still be friends, no matter what. I'm not abandoning you now," Mercedes promises.

"If anyone in that school gives you trouble, you let me know, and me and the guys will teach them a lesson, before getting you the hell out of there," Puck growls seriously.

"Don't ever forget that we love you," Tina sobs on his shoulder.

Kurt feels as if he can't breathe properly when they've all left, a big lump clogging his throat. When Finn hesitantly opens his arms, Kurt all but falls into his embrace.

* * *

Kurt has been sleeping in the car. He had to get up at five, so they could leave early and arrive in time for the meeting with Principal Morris at nine o' clock. Kurt doesn't wake up until his dad kills the engine of the Navigator, and gently shakes his son.

"We're here, kid."

Kurt stretches and yawns, rubs his eyes, and flips the sun visor to check in the mirror how much his nap has damaged his hair. Then he takes in the surroundings around the parked car.

They're in a parking lot, obviously, and Burt has parked the car along a row with signs on each spot one saying "Guests". Further along the row, Kurt can make out signs saying "Administration". The parking lot continues further behind them, and a lot of cars are parked there. Probably teachers and students, Kurt does a calculated guess.

A long and wide path that may be made of gravel, but is covered in snow now, leads from the parking lot, and directly up to a huge, massive stone building. On two sides of the path, Kurt assumes there are green lawns under the snow. They are trimmed with a hedge, not more than one, one and a half feet tall, along two sides. The long sides along the path are trimmed with rose bushes, and the fourth side meets a crossing path that goes around the monumental building on both sides. On the lawn are also a couple of oak trees and apple trees. It looks impressive, and a bit intimidating. Maybe it'd look more beautiful during spring. All the leaf is gone, all rosebuds are gone, everything is covered in snow, there are no foot prints on the lawn, and everything looks dead and deserted.

The school area obviously continues behind the main building, which is blocking Kurt's view. He can see the shape of some roof behind it, but it's too far away for him to pinpoint what kind of buildings they can be.

"Are you ready, Kurt? It's already a quarter to nine."

He takes a deep breath, and looks at his father.

"Ready as I'm ever going to be."

He unbuckles the seat belt, and looks around in the car.

"I don't know what I should bring."

"A pen and some paper will do, I'm sure. It's an information meeting, not a history lesson."

Kurt drapes his satchel over his shoulder, and steps out of the car. A tickle on his thigh and a faint buzzing sound alerts him of a new text and reminds him to silence the phone during the meeting with his new principal.

_Good luck on your first day in your new school!_

Kurt can't help but smile. Sometimes Blaine is just too sweet.

Burt lays a hand on Kurt's shoulder, and firmly guides him forward. They're doing it. He's actually doing it. This is it.

Carole couldn't get out of work, and Finn has school. Besides, Kurt wanted this to be something between merely him and his father. He doesn't know what to expect, but he didn't want to stick out in the crowd, looking like a mommy's boy with his entire family gathered around him. He doesn't know what's normal in this school, how independent and how family orientated the students are. With Burt there, and nobody else, he'd have plenty of support, but not an entire team to cheer on him for his first day in a new school. He's 18, not 8.

As they approach the massive building, Kurt can read the iron wrought letters over the main entrance. He hopes the inside isn't as daunting as the outside.

Father and son climb the five concrete and tiled steps, and Burt opens one of the doors in the wide pair. He gestures for Kurt to walk in first.

Kurt did not expect what he walks in to.

The building looks even bigger on the inside, but it also looks lighter, brighter, friendlier, not to mention richer, and more aristocratic.

They step into a square room, with corridors going to the left, right and straight ahead. If he looks up, he can see two more floors and a glass dome in the ceiling, letting in light and giving the room and building an almost devout atmosphere.

In the middle of the room they're in, is a tall rose bush. Around it are stuffed leather benches, facing away from the bush. Kurt can see bulletin boards on one of the walls, but unlike McKinley, these are neat and tidy, and the golden frames make them look even more important and well kept. On the opposite wall is a row of at least 12 portraits in similar frames – Kurt assumes they are former principals. The oldest are painted, and the newest are photographs.

On the floor is a plush burgundy carpet, with the school crest, and Kurt wonders how often it has to be cleaned to remove gum and snuff stains. He pities the poor soul with that responsibility. The carpet looks spotless now, though, but it's probably been maintained during Christmas. The walls are painted in a warm yellow, and a tapestry border runs along them, three quarter up the wall. The pattern is of angels, harps, some intricate leaves, and bows.

The school looks old, classic, traditional, rich and posh – but it also looks clean, tidy, and up to date. Two TV-screens on opposite walls are delicately and discretely assembled to not stand out too much, but still in clear view for everybody to get the latest information.

Kurt takes in all of this within a minute or two, but he'd like to sit down on one of the comfortable-looking benches and just observe and absorb this room for ages. He manages to notice the TV-screens display today's menu in the dining hall, before changing to an alert about no parking after 6 PM today, because a plough is coming to remove the snow.

"Kurt?"

Kurt looks up at his father, who's stepped closer to the corridor on the right side. Above it are signs explaining which offices are there, among others the principal.

Burt leads way, and Kurt focuses on watching the back of his dad's head. He can't take in everything around him now, he's already overwhelmed. He almost walks into his dad, when he abruptly stops in front of a door. Burt knocks, and opens the door.

They step into an anteroom, and an elderly man sits behind a moderately sized mahogany desk. It's tidy, but behind him are shelves brimmed with binders, note books, books, magazines and papers. Next to him is a door with a brass sign stating _Principal M. Morris_.

"Good morning, we're the Hummel's," Burt greets.

"Ah, yes, we're expecting you. Please sit down for a moment," the man smiles friendly, and gestures at the four chairs across his desk.

Kurt immediately sits down, and closes his eyes. His right index finger is absentmindedly running over his cuff, the one with the familiar and encouraging word inscribed on the metal. _Courage_. He'll always make sure to wear a cuff at school, to avoid stares, questions and gossip. He doesn't care if it'll go against the uniform regulations or not – it'll stay. He hadn't been sure how to dress besides the cuff today, but put on some black snug jeans. It had been that or the oversized jeans he swore to recently, but tries to stay away from now. On his torso he's wearing a bland white shirt, black bowtie, and a steel grey gun jacket in thin cotton with military inspired details. He tried to go with subtle, but still fashionable, discrete, but still thought through, elegant and stated, but not screaming. Over he's wearing his camel duffel coat and purple cashmere scarf. And he chose his ankle boots today.

He tries not to think about clothes, because he can't change now. So he thinks about Blaine, and how far he's come with his struggles. He thinks about coach Sylvester, who pulled her wicked and slightly scary strings to make things happen. He thinks about his dad, how much he worries, and how relieved he'd be if Kurt could settle down here. He thinks about his friends and their departing words. No matter what they said, things will change, they won't be as before. And then he thinks about Karofsky and his death threat. His heart starts beating faster, and it grows, as if it'll choke him.

"Principal Morris is ready to see you now," the older man says, stepping up to open the door for them.

Kurt's heart shrinks to a somewhat more normal size, but it's still beating rapidly.

They step into a grand L-shaped room. The room continues to the left, and from what Kurt can see briefly, it's a small library.

A young, blond woman stands next to her desk, and smiles at them. She's fairly short, but oozes authority. Which she should, pulling off those high heels demands respect. Kudos to her. She's wearing a gray knee length pencil skirt, a white shirt, and a navy bolero.

"Welcome to Dalton Academy, Mr. and Mr. Hummel!"

"Thank you for seeing us, Principal Morris," he can hear his dad say.

"How good you could come! Please sit," she gestures at two vintage leather armchairs with rococo legs and red silky stuffing. "I'm Minnie Morris," the principal greets, and Kurt almost gives himself a whiplash. Did she say her name was…? Kurt's eyes quickly darts at his father, the mechanic, and yeah, he must have heard the same.

"Oh, you might just as well say it out loud," Principal Morris laughs. "A lot of people think I'm named after a car."

Burt laughs out loud along with the woman. Kurt chuckles awkwardly. This is his principal, after all.

Kurt sits down daintily, afraid of damaging this obviously expensive piece of furniture. His dad sits down in the other chair, not as graceful and careful, and Kurt winces inwardly. The principal sits down by her desk – a white brushed wooden desk with antique finishing, rococo legs and a glass plate on top. Gorgeous, Kurt inwardly praises her. Vintage, but practical.

Even her desk top lamp seems to be pretending to be from the same era, and Kurt could bet anything that she's decorated the room herself.

He hasn't the chance to observe the room any further, though, as the principal calls for his attention.

"I'd like to extend a special welcome to you, Kurt. I hope you'll settle down and enjoy your time here. We at Dalton are glad to help you, and will do what we can to enable your graduation."

Kurt nods and murmurs a thank you.

The woman is young; she doesn't look like she can be a day more than 35. Then again, coach Sylvester has claimed to be both 29 and 69, so who knows. This could be an alumna from their shared college days, or it could be Sue's unknown daughter. All Kurt knows, is that this woman owed his former cheerleader coach big time.

"I want you to know, Kurt, my door is open at any time you need. We take the welfare of our students seriously, and will bend backwards to help you through high school. We have a definite no tolerance for any kind of bullying. You're not the first student with a background like yours here, and we aim to both protect you and heal your broken wings."

Kurt is breathing slowly, and using all his energy to school his facial expression. His bone marrow screams at him to let him roll his eyes, say something snarky, and let the principal know he doesn't buy these fancy, empty words. His dad is looking attentive, though, and smiling as if he's glad to hear what the principal says.

"I have prepared a folder for you with some important documents. Let me show you," she offers, and opens the navy folder with the Dalton crest printed on the front.

"First, there's a list of important telephone numbers. This you may want to save on your phone," she says, pointing at a row of digits. "You have no idea how often the students manage to break their student card, which is also a key card. The caretaker will be able to help you with a new one."

Principal Morris goes through the rest of the list – the number to the principal's office, the local police department, some pizza places, a taxi company, and the bus- and train station's service phone for timetables.

Along with the phone numbers, are also some addresses – the one to Dalton Academy itself, to the hospital, pharmacy, bank, post office, and other places of importance. They've also added the opening hours for the dining hall, the on campus book store, the school nurse, the library, the gym, and so on.

"You'll find all this information online as well, but from experience most students need to carry this information with them the first few weeks until they're completely settled."

The principal further shows him three maps of campus, the application for a parking spot, a calendar of important events this semester, and a list of extra curricular activities. Finally, she shows him a thick stack of papers.

"These are all the rules and regulations for this school, and we expect you to know them and respect them. If you have any questions, you can always ask me, the prefect or any teacher. This seems worse than it is, most of it is self explanatory, for instance no smoking indoors, no drinking on campus including the dormitories, how to respect the uniform, and so on."

She watches him as he flips through the papers, as if the questions will just pop up.

"But the most important thing you have to remember is the zero tolerance bullying policy. It's strictly enforced, and we want you to let us know as soon as anything happens. If any teachers or someone else from the staff observes something, it will be reported as well."

Kurt nods, but he highly doubts this can be as good as it sounds.

"I have already had a meeting with your psychiatrist, and she had several suggestions and amendments to facilitate your education. We've agreed on a plan she finds crucial for your well being and ability to complete high school."

Principal Morris finds a time table and some other papers.

"OK, here's what we'll do."

* * *

Kurt is dizzy and needs a moment to catch his breath. This isn't what he'd imagined at all. He doesn't know how he feels about the plans they've made without consulting him. Disappointment? Frustration? Anger? Relief? He'll need some time to absorb this.

"OK, we seem to be in agreement, and I think it's about time you get to see more of your new school, Kurt. Let me introduce you to a prefect from your dormitory building. He'll show you to your room, give you a guided tour, and help you settle in. But my door is always open if you need me, no matter the reason."

"Thank you very much, Principal Morris." Both Kurt and Burt shake hands with the woman, and Kurt tucks the folder securely in his satchel.

The principal walks father and son out of her office, and addresses a young African-American man in the Dalton uniform sitting in the anteroom.

"Ah, wonderful, Mr. Thompson, you're here. This is our new student, Kurt Hummel, and his father Mr. Burt Hummel. Hummels, this is David Thompson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel, I'm here to help your son settle down and thrive here at Dalton Academy," the boy says, offering his hand to Burt.

"Please, call me Burt. It's nice to meet you too, David," Burt says, shaking the boy's hand.

"Welcome to Dalton, Kurt," the boy offers his hand for Kurt as well.

"Thank you," Kurt says shyly, accepting the hand shake. He's not used to that amount of politeness in school. At McKinley he was usually called dude or homo, and hardly anyone paid any respect to the teachers.

"So, if all the pleasantries are behind us, we can move on to the heavy stuff. I suggest we bring your things to your room, and then I can give you the grand tour. How does that sound?"

"Fine by me," Kurt says carefully, and Burt nods in agreement.

David leads way back to the guest parking lot, and points out a few things they pass. As Kurt suspected, there's a beautiful garden hidden under the snow waiting for spring.

He's studying David, trying to place him, understand him. He seems like a polite boy, but that can be a façade he drops the moment the adults disappear. His height is average, but he seems quite muscular. Maybe he's doing some kind of sport. He'll probably be able to take Kurt down. It's difficult to be specific, the blazer hides a lot. But he has broad, strong shoulders, and walks straight and smoothly. There's a certain pride and bounce in his steps, and he seems like a confident man. Kurt assumes he's popular. That's not necessarily good news for Kurt.

"It's quite a bit to walk from the guest parking to the dorm buildings, but it's possible to drive to the entrance if you've got permission.

"Do you know who we could ask for such permission? Kurt here has brought a lot of stuff, and I think it would take a quarter of an eternity to carry it," Burt chuckles, and pats Kurt on his back with the love he obviously has for his son.

David grins as he produces a blue laminated note from his pocket.

"I'm authoritative enough to do this, at least," he smirks, and places the temporarily parking certificate on the dashboard.

"Why don't you take the passenger seat, so you can tell my father where to drive," Kurt suggests, and they follow that plan.

They drive past four buildings. One looks similar to the main building where they met up with the principal, but a glass built in bridge is connecting it to an identical building on the other end of the assumedly green area in the middle. Further along, is a third building, looking newer, but still made of stone. The next and last building they pass looks brand new, and Kurt is pretty sure it's a gym.

Burt continues further along the road, hardly going much more than ten. David guides Burt to an old building on the outskirt of the area. It looks like a mansion, with a gravelled, narrow driveway. It even has a cul de sac in front of the entrance, with a winter-flower decorated roundabout Burt drives around. He stops the car as close to the door as possible.

Kurt jumps out of the car and opens the backdoor. David and Burt join him shortly after.

"Remember what I said?" Kurt warns him. "You are not allowed to carry anything heavy and strain your heart."

"Yes, dad," Burt mocks, but smiles.

David takes a look at the car, packed to the brim with boxes, bags and suitcases.

"I'll call for back up," David laughs. "Man, I've wanted to use that sentence once!" He steps away and takes a quick phone call.

"My slaves are here any minutes," he smiles when he comes back, and Kurt shudders. He wonders what kind of bully power he used to make them help a stranger move in. Although the school is supposed to have an anti bullying policy, he's convinced it's impossible to enforce, and there must be bullying happening behind the teacher's backs. If even the prefects are doing it, who's there to stop it?

"So Kurt, we are now in front of the dormitory building. Dalton Academy isn't a very big school, with about 200 students. Less than a third of them board, and live here."

Kurt tilts his head backwards to look at the big building. He can't imagine 60-70 boys living there. It must be chaos.

"I can see you are slightly overwhelmed. We have some strict rules to make sure everyone can enjoy their stay, and I'll walk you through it afterwards. But rest assured, the rules are few and bearable, and it can be a lot of fun to live here as long as we all respect each other."

David has just finished when two boys come out the door.

"Ah, there they are, my slaves," David smirks, and Kurt instinctively takes a step away from him. "Boys, glad you would join us, meet our new student, Kurt Hummel."

Both boys scurry towards Kurt, eagerly offering their hands.

"Welcome to Dalton, Kurt. I'm Nicholas Duval, but please, please call me Nick."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Kurt says softly, accepting his hand.

"Dalton is looking forward to get to know you, welcome, Kurt. I'm Jeffrey Sterling, but for the love of everything good, please call me Jeff."

"I'm looking forward to get to know you too," Kurt smiles shyly. "And thank you very much for accepting to help me move in, it's really sweet of you to help a stranger like that."

Jeff looks shocked at Nick.

"Do you hear how this guy talks?" he asks, and Kurt's heart drops to his stomach.

The second person he meet is about to mock and tease his high range voice. How could his dad ever think this would be better than McKinley?

"I hear you, love! How can the new kid talk more polite and nice than our prefect? I don't get it…" Nick looks honestly confused, and Kurt tilts his head and watches him with raised eyebrows.

"Which school are you transferring from?" Jeff asks curiously, but politely.

"Umm, I've been in public school."

"Wow, that must have been an exceptional school!" Jeff beams, and jumps around Kurt.

"Indescribable," Kurt mutters.

"Boys, should we get on with the moving?" Burt interjects, sensing his son's discomfort. He has faith he will be his usually witty, snarky, strong self in no time; he just needs to acclimate.

"Ah, yes, of course, sir," Nick says, and he and Jeff quickly formally introduces themselves to Kurt's father, both being told to call him Burt, stop making me feel old, will ya.

David swipes his key card in front of the door, and punches a code. He opens the double entrance doors, and pulls down the door stop to make sure they stay open.

"You need a key card to get to your corridor as well, but I'll shut down the alarm for now, and we can use one of the heaviest boxes to keep the door open. That way we can walk from the car to Kurt's room without needing our hands or any keys.

"Where is Kurt's room," Nick asks.

"He's on the upperclassmen floor, room number 317.

Jeff fist pumps in the air, and Kurt looks quizzically at him.

"You're my new room mate!" he exclaims, and gives Kurt a spontaneous hug. He lets go immediately when he realizes how Kurt tenses in his embrace.

"I'm sure we'll be good friends," Jeff says unaffected, but making a mental note to be more wary of Kurt's personal space.

They all grab something from the car, and goes inside.

"So, this is the main floor, with a lot of storage space, let me know if you need a booth and I'll assign you one. You'll need a padlock, though. We trust each other, but better safe than sorry. Down here you also have some study rooms for group assignments, and a kitchen, but you won't need it. It's almost only underclassmen using it."

David is pointing in various directions to the highlights he's mentioning. When they went through the main door, they entered a big lobby. The first thing Kurt sees is two big mahogany stairs, but he tries to pay attention to David's tour guiding. Kurt can see the stairs meet on the next floor for a half long corridor and a big wooden door. Both stairs continue upwards forming a semi circle.

"The sophomores and freshmen board on this floor. Us upperclassmen board on top, and we have better accommodations," David smirks from the top of the first stairs.

"Are you a junior or senior, Kurt?" Nick asks.

"I'm a senior."

"Oh, so not long until your graduation," Jeff says, and he almost looks disappointed.

"It feels long enough," Kurt mumbles.

"All three of us are juniors," he smiles unaffected by Kurt's burst of gloom, and points at Nick and David.

"How can David be a prefect if he's a junior?" Kurt asks hesitantly

"They appoint one prefect for each class year, so we are four people in charge, but the senior and junior have sovereignty over the other two if we have a situation," David explains with a smile.

Kurt can imagine him and the senior abuse their power over the other two, pushing them around and forcing them to be their slaves.

"I'll give you the tour of our floor when we've gotten all of your belongings inside, if that's OK."

"Of course."

Even though Kurt has brought a lot of stuff, it doesn't take too long to get it all inside for the four boys. Burt tries to contribute as well, but Kurt lovingly scolds him and only allows him to carry lightweight items like his quality pillows and laptop bag.

Kurt and Jeff's room is fairly big. Two spacious beds in dark oak are placed on opposite walls. Between them are two nightstands in the same oak, with two drawers and a lamp. There's also a reading lamp by the headboard of the bed. Between the two bed tables are a door leading out to a balcony. It isn't too big, but big enough for a cute garden set of two chairs and a table.

"Some students use the balcony to smoke, but we really aren't allowed, and the prefects want the smokers to go out to the designated areas with ash trays," Jeff says as he notices Kurt peak out the balcony door.

"I don't smoke," Kurt says.

"Oh good, me neither. I hate when the smell of smoke drifts in to the room."

By the foot of the beds, the boys have a desk each, with two shelves over. Next to the empty desk Kurt assumes is his, are a nice soft-looking black leather couch and a low coffee table. On the opposite wall are a bookshelf and two doors. One leads to their en suite bathroom, the other leads to a walk in closet Kurt immediately falls in love with.

"Don't worry, I'll clean up and make space for your clothes and shoes," Jeff says apologetically. "I didn't expect a new room mate now."

"I'm sorry for intruding," Kurt mumbles.

"Stop it, Kurt, it'll be nice to have a room mate and you seem like a really nice guy. It can be lonely living on your own, so I'm looking forward to the company and a new friend," Jeff smiles so sincerely Kurt can't help but believe him.

"As if you're able to feel lonely considering how often I catch you and Nick sneaking in the corridors after curfew on your way to the other," David snickers. "I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads up, Jeff, but I didn't know about the transfer until this morning either."

"This is the last box," Burt says as he enters the door. "The car is empty."

"Thank you, dad," Kurt smiles big.

"It wasn't much you let me help with," Burt growls with humour.

"So sue me for wanting my father to live some more years," Kurt huffs, but there's love in his voice.

"I better head back; Carole is dying to know more about your school and will be waiting with dinner ready by the time I'm home."

The three boys politely leave the room to give father and son a moment on their own.

Kurt's heart drops a bit at the thought of his family sitting down for dinner. He still wants to get to know his new family better, but instead he's stuck two hours away.

"Give my love to Carole and Finn, OK? And drive carefully."

"I will, kid, to both. You call me whenever you need, and whenever you think I need it, or I'll call you. I'll try to understand that Skype thing too, maybe Finn can help me."

"Sounds great, dad."

"Love you, be safe."

"Love you too, dad."

They hug for the longest time, until they manage to tear themselves apart and Burt opens the door to the hallway.

"I'll walk you out. I need to close the doors and initiate the alarm again anyway," David offers, and both men leave.

* * *

The silence is awkward, but Kurt honestly doesn't know what to say.

David is leading him along a narrow road away from the dormitory building. All he can see on either side are snow covered fields, and then trees, trees, and yes, more trees.

Finally they stop in front of the closest building, the one that looked newest.

"This is the gym," David explains. "I won't show you every single thing inside, as it should be fairly self explanatory. Detailed schedules are pinned on the bulletin board inside, so you know when the facilities are open for the students."

David opens the door and gestures for Kurt to go inside. Kurt hesitates. He still doesn't feel comfortable with gyms and locker rooms. He'd asked Christy to ask the principal if he could be excused, but that was a "no". Fortunately, his PE-classes are at the end of the day, so he can actually just go back to his own room and shower there.

"It's OK," Kurt says, with a tremble in his voice. "I'm sure I'll figure it out," he adds, taking a step away from the door.

"Your call," David shrugs, but his forehead is scrunches up in confusion. "We have a swimming pool downstairs, and the weight room. On ground level you'll find a dance studio, and the main gym with what I consider well stocked equipment."

David stops to point out the direction.

"Behind those trees, you'll find the fields, with running tracks, and of course we gather on the bleachers to cheer on Dalton."

Kurt nods to show he's listening, but he knows he'll _never_ seek out any of these facilities.

They continue the tour, and David shares anecdotes about soccer games (apparently he's the captain), he points out a rose garden, and randomly mentions rules and habits Kurt should know about (curfew are midnight Friday and Saturday, and ten thirty other days. Some students choose to use a bike to get to their lessons in time, as the campus is so wast).

David opens the door to the next building as well, and Kurt can't help but notice how polite he seems, even without his dad watching. When will the other shoe drop?

The prefect shows Kurt each and every single room, explaining and giving recommendations like a professional tour guide.

They walk through the book store, which really is more of a students' supply store. They have every variety of note books and writing equipment. But they also have uniforms and other Dalton clothes. They have mugs, pennants, inflatable beach balls, bed sheets, and postcards with the Dalton crest. They have a small selection of toiletries, including detergent.

"You really don't have to leave campus before summer break?" Kurt comments dryly.

David seems surprised, but laughs, and shows him the other rooms: The laundry room, the dining hall, the post room, the school nurse, the caretaker's office – where they take a picture of Kurt for his key card, which he can pick up the next day after lunch. The library is on the second floor.

"The next building is where all the class rooms are. Did you notice the glass bridge earlier today?"

Kurt nods and David continues.

"To make it easy, math, chemistry, biology and those subjects are taught on the right side, while language, social sciences and similar subjects are in the building to the left."

David shows them in the closest doors, which takes them to the science building. The first thing Kurt spots, is a small coffee bar.

"Oh thank God," he murmurs.

"Caffeine addict?" David grins.

"So much!"

"You're not the only one. There's actually a similar joint on the other side as well, so you should manage."

Kurt takes in the vending machine, the coffee automat, and the counter.

"What's your poison?" David asks, jingling coins in his hand. "The barista will be back tomorrow when classes begin, and they usually have some light snack for sale as well."

"Huh? Oh, grande non-fat mocha," Kurt rambles off distractedly. He's still reading the menu on the blackboard behind the counter. At least McKinley never had this.

"Here you go," David offers a warm cardboard cup.

"You didn't have to…" Kurt objects, but David just laughs.

"Not a problem, Kurt. Welcome to Dalton," he mock salutes, lifting his own cup of coffee.

* * *

"And now our grand tour has almost turned full circle. As you can see we are back to our floor, and if you turn right you get to the rooms. If you turn left, however, you get to all the fun rooms," David beams with enthusiasm. "You'll find a well equipped kitchen, and it's stocked with the basics – our tuition covers it, but you can order things you need at your own cost as well. Let me know if you need order forms; groceries are delivered Wednesdays. The senior prefect and I are in charge of ordering everything else, within a budget, so you may come with requests if it's something all of us can use. All meals are served in the dining hall, of course, but sometimes you just want to make popcorn or a pizza."

David walks down the corridor and opens the first door as he talks, showing Kurt a spacious kitchen with modern utilities, plenty of working space, and a well used dining table and chairs for eight persons.

"If it isn't labelled with a name, you're free to help yourself to whatever," David explains, and opens a cupboard.

The next door is a small gym.

"As I showed you, we have a big gym you can use before curfew, but if someone wants a quick work out, this room is available from ten to seven. Even though the walls are extra isolated, nobody trying to sleep wants to listen to grunting, moaning, screaming, and... Oh, that sounded like I described sex, didn't it?" David grins and Kurt blushes.

"And girls must leave before curfew," David adds as an apropos.

"That will hardly be a problem," Kurt mumbles.

"No girlfriend?" David asks.

"Not exactly," Kurt mutters, not feeling safe enough for the truth.

David pretends like nothing, and continues down the corridor.

"The next two doors on both sides are study rooms, if you need somewhere to do group assignments or study sessions. There are a couple of computers in the study rooms, but hardly anyone use them as most of us have laptops. Of course you can go to the ground floor, but the underclassmen are there and we have better rooms. The library closes at five, so these rooms are pretty popular in late evenings and weekends. You'll see there are lists on the door, so make sure you reserve the room for the desired timeslot. If you come more than ten minutes late, the room is free for anyone to take, but if you repeatedly come too late or don't show up, it will be consequences, as there are many who want to use the rooms."

"What kinds of consequences are there if I break any rules?"

"It depends on the seriousness of the violation, but it can be limited curfew for a time, house arrest, withdrawal of certain rights for a limited time, detention, and of course expulsion. But relax, Kurt, it isn't often I have to enforce any punishment, and you don't strike me as a bad boy," David grins.

He gestures for Kurt to follow him past the study rooms, where the corridor mounds out in a big room.

"This is the common's room. This is where we hang out. Underclassmen aren't allowed here without invitation, but you are welcome to their abode whenever, if you should so desire."

Kurt steps into the room and spins slowly around to take in as much as possible. The main focal point on one of the walls is a big fire place, and it's burning bright and fiercely. A nice couch and two big armchairs are pierced in front of it.

On the next wall is an impressing entertainment set, with a big widescreen, DVD-player, and various game consoles. More couches and chairs fill the space in front of the TV.

"The consoles are owned by students, but anyone is free to use whatever lies around here," David says as he sees what Kurt is looking at. "Are you a big gamer?"

"I play some games, but not much," Kurt says, glad he can answer more positive to something that seems to be a bonding activity in this school.

In another corner Kurt spots another couch, for those who wants to sit and talk without watching TV, he assumes.

"Not many have come back from their Christmas break yet, but usually you'll always find someone in here. When we come back from dinner, I can promise you this room is crowded with boys ready for school tomorrow.

"How many live on this floor?"

"This school year 35 upperclassmen are boarding, including you. We have 20 double rooms, so if something happens, we can split up room mates or welcome mid semester transfers. As a prefect I live on my own, you'll find me in room 301. The other prefect, Trevor, lives in 303. They are the first dorms when you walk down the corridor, and you can talk to both of us if you need anything. Principal Morris wanted me to welcome you, though, as she wanted me to introduce you to the juniors as well."

David looks a bit confused by his principal's demand, but is too polite to ask Kurt. Kurt, of course, knows why it may be important for him to get to know the juniors as soon as possible.

"Are you ready for dinner, Kurt? You should go with us, until you get your key card. There's a doorbell, but it's not always heard among the ruckus the boys make here," David smiles and shakes his head. "I should give you my phone number, so you can reach me whenever. I'd like to have your number too."

Kurt agrees on dinner, and they exchange phone numbers as they walk back to the rooms to see if Nick and Jeff are up for dinner as well.

* * *

The dining hall looks deserted. David explains the menu is limited today, with only two options, and promises the food will be better as soon as classes start up again.

Compared to McKinley, Kurt is impressed by the selection, and wonders what he's to expect if it's supposed to be even better. Today, he can choose between chicken fajitas and pork chops. He goes for the first option.

The four boys sit down by a table. Two more tables are occupied, but David guides them to a secluded corner, for which Kurt is grateful.

"So Kurt, tell us about yourself," Jeff, his room mate, urges.

And that's the part of the transfer Kurt's been dreading the most. Getting to know people, trying to make friends, having to show parts of himself without knowing how they'll respond.

"I'm… Kurt. I don't know what you need to know," Kurt laughs strained.

"There are few things we _need_ to know, so tell us whatever," Nick suggests.

"No, no," Jeff objects. "There are a couple of important things I need to know."

Kurt looks at him cautiously.

"For instance," Jeff continues. "Do you snore? Do you shower in the morning, evening, or both? Do you play loud heavy metal? Can I borrow your tooth paste if mine is empty?"

"No. Usually evenings, but exceptions happen. No. Yes, but let me know if you finish that as well."

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Jeff sighs, clutching his hands over his heart.

The rest of the dinner is spent in silence for Kurt, but he listens to the other boys' easy chat. He's trying to decipher the weird tone they have, or if David is bullying them. He's trying to assess his room mate. And from what he can see, Nick is a close friend, so he assumes he'll have to deal with him as well. The two of them look harmless. For now. What's a first impression, anyway?

* * *

The four boys head back to the dormitory building, and David invites Kurt to join them in the common's room to meet some of the boys.

"I need to get some unpacking done so I can get dressed tomorrow," Kurt says evasively.

A basic assortment of uniforms and school clothes were pre-ordered, and waited when he arrived. He needs to get them out of their garment bags and into the wardrobe, though, and check if the shirts need ironing.

"But Kurt, I want you to meet the guys, I'm not the only one awesome here." That manages to pull a slight laughter out of Kurt. He takes a quick glance on his phone to check the time.

"Tell you what, David. Let me unpack for two hours, and then I'll join you in the common's room and meet the boys, OK?" Kurt hopes David will be occupied and have forgotten him by then.

"OK," David gives in. "But I will hunt you down if I don't see you at eight o' clock," he warns with a grin.

Jeff joins Kurt to their room, both to unlock the door and to start rearranging the closet to give Kurt space for his clothes. The boys work in comfortable silence. Kurt is overwhelmed and filled to the brim with impressions and experiences to be able to make any conversation right now. Jeff mostly lets him be, but offer small appraising comments when Kurt unpacks something particularly interesting.

At quarter past eight, David burst in the door.

"There will be severe consequences if you don't show up in the common's room right now," David states with a serious expression. "I promised the boys fresh meat, and they'll finish me if I don't deliver. So I'm throwing you to the wolves," David says as he grabs Kurt's arm and yanks him away. Kurt flinches at the touch, and David lets go as if he's been scolded. He doesn't say anything, though, and merely gestures for Kurt to follow him.

"We'll do a detour via the kitchen to pick up popcorn I'm microwaving. Feel free to rummage the refrigerator for anything to drink."

David pours the popcorn in a plastic bowl, because they've had ugly accidents with glass bowls earlier, he tells.

They walk further down the corridor, and Kurt can already hear the chatter from boys talking, shouting, singing, bickering and obviously having fun.

"I managed to make them wait with the movie 'till you were here," David says, "but you're too late to have any vote in the decision making."

"I'll survive," Kurt shrugs. "What are we watching?"

David answers, but it never reaches Kurt's ears. Six or seven boys are relaxing in front of the TV, but Kurt only sees one of them. The sound of his soda can hitting the floor silences the boys, and everybody looks up in his direction.

"Kurt?"

Kurt's vocal chords won't function, and he just stares with wide eyes and open mouth. The owner of the voice hurriedly gets up from the couch and strides over to him in five long steps.

"Oh my gosh, Kurt, why didn't you say you were coming _here_?" Blaine exclaims, and wraps his arms around Kurt. Kurt melts into the embrace, returning the hug and holds tight around his friend he hasn't seen in more than a month and never though he'd see again. The warmth from Blaine's body loosens his tongue as well.

"I thought you lived in LA, and you've never mentioned the name of your school."

"What? You thought I…? But I..." Blaine is flustered and unable to form a sensible response. "If I had known you were coming here, I could have done more to help you," Blaine continues without letting go of Kurt.

"I never bothered with details about my transfer; I didn't think it would matter for you and California."

"Oh Kurt, I don't know what to say. I'm so glad you're here, and we most definitely need to talk later. But now is movie time; you look exhausted," Blaine says, looking intently at him.

"So I take it you know each other?" David asks, finally getting the two boys' attention.

"We do," Blaine grins, and lets go of Kurt with one arm, but leaves the other resting around Kurt's waist, holding him tight against him.

"Well, if Blaine has taken Kurt under his wings, we can be sure he has to be an awesome guy, so welcome to Dalton," an Asian boy smiles.

"Kurt, meet my roommate and good friend Wes."

Kurt shakes hands with the boy who praised him.

"Wesley Montgomery, pleased to meet you. Call me Wes," he winks.

"And I see you've already met David, he's another good friend of mine."

Kurt's puzzled by that, because the impression he's gotten of David isn't someone he thought Blaine would be involved with. It confuses him. Has he misunderstood Blaine, doesn't he know him at all?

"Where do you live?"

Kurt answers with his room number.

"Lucky you, rooming with Jeff, he's the best."

"Hey!" Wes exclaims and hits his shoulder, but Blaine just swats his hand away and laughs.

"Anyway," Blaine still laughs, "I guess you've met Jeff's boyfriend Nick as well." Kurt tenses, worried how people will react to the mentioning of a gay couple. Blaine seems to understand what Kurt is thinking, and gently and discreetly rubs his fingers on Kurt's lower back and smiles reassuringly at him while he continues the introduction like nothing's wrong.

When Kurt has shook hands with all the guys and forgotten most of their names, they finally sit down to watch the movie. Blaine pats the seat next to him and invites Kurt to join him on the couch. Kurt accepts hesitantly, worried he may take someone's place, as he sees some of the guys sit on the floor. But Blaine reassures him it's OK.

Kurt is observing the other boys more than he's watching the movie. He's not even sure what's showing on the screen. Blaine is curled up in the couch next to him, while Kurt is sitting prim and straight. On his other side, Jeff is sitting between Nick's legs, with Nick sitting on the back of the couch giving Jeff a shoulder massage.

Trevor, the other prefect, is lounging on a couch with some other boys Kurt can't remember the names of. They sit deep in the seats with legs on the table, and Kurt silently wonders what kind of behaviour he can expect in classes. David is sitting on the floor, leaning against a footstool, and Kurt is surprised to see Wes lying down with his head in David's lap. Kurt already has so many questions, and just wants to drag Blaine with him to some secluded room and fire them off.

The heat from the fireplace isn't as effective anymore, so Blaine takes a quilt from a big basket next to the couch. He wraps it around both Kurt and himself. Under the quilt, hidden from the others eyes, he silently laces his fingers with Kurt's, and Kurt's heart stutters. He needs this closeness now, he needs a little comfort from a friend, he needs something solid and familiar among everything new, strange and overwhelming. He smiles timidly at Blaine, hoping the boy will read it as the thank you it's meant to be.


	33. To Trust Again

**As I feared, I didn't have time to write anything during Christmas and New Year, so sadly you had to keep waiting for an update - and I know I left a lot of you with a bunch of unanswered questions. I'm sorry about that, but at least you got to know that Kurt is doing fairly fine before we took a season break. And I hope some of your questions have been answered with this chapter.**

**I love you for all the kind and supporting reviews you leave me - and I'm thrilled whenever you ask questions or recommend what could happen later on, it blows my mind that you are showing that much interest and involvement in my silly story. Thank you so much, without you this writing would be no fun!**

**As usual - leave this story season 4-spoiler free for me, and English is not my native language, so forgive me for any major errors.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, but thank you for lending me a sandbox.**

* * *

Kurt remembers when Finn and he started sharing a room. It had been somewhat tense, after Finn's initial disastrous reaction to them being roomies. Kurt had been tip toeing around him to not upset the boy, making sure to be overly decent at any time, not smearing his gay all over the room, and being as considerate as possible.

After two weeks, Finn had walked around in t-shirt and boxer shorts in front of Kurt, farting without even acknowledging it, filling the room with his dirty clothes and mess until Kurt gently reminded him about the hampers and book shelves. Finn had seemed relaxed and laidback and it had eventually made Kurt ease up as well.

After Kurt came back home after his stay at Bellefontaine, things were somewhat tense and tip toed again. Finn didn't know what he could do to be as supportive as possible. Kurt didn't want to be a burden they had to take care of and look after. But eventually they eased into a less restrained pattern.

Finn didn't freak out when Kurt had a nightmare, but climbed into his bed and held him through the night. They lay under separate covers and with some distance, but Finn hadn't hesitated to give Kurt what he needed.

Kurt had grown to not only endure and accept, but also actually like Finn's video games. He recognized some of the games in the common's room in his new school, and was glad he had the choice to join in on the gaming if he wanted to.

Kurt thinks about the first night spent in Blaine's room at Bellefontaine. He'd been wound so tightly, afraid to interfere and disturb him. He'd hardly slept the first night, afraid to do something wrong.

It's much like how this night is going along as well.

He tries to think about how well things worked out between Blaine and him after a fairly short amount of time. He tries to focus on how nice it was to have a roommate, and all the advantages it gave him.

But this is Jeff, not Blaine, so he doubts it can be compared. This is something else entirely. A new boy, a new room, a new situation.

So Kurt is tense and silent in bed, listening and absorbing anything his other senses can digest.

Jeff is breathing deeply in a firm pattern. He isn't downright snoring, but there's a deep growly quality to some of his inhales.

The ancient dormitory building randomly squeaks, creaks and groans.

The pipes whine whenever someone uses the sink, toilet or shower.

Someone in the hallway is playing Abba just loud enough for Kurt to recognize the song, but not loud enough to actually decipher the lyrics.

Outside, the wind is fierce, clawing at the trees, forcing them to shimmy and dance. Some branches are repeatedly hitting something that gives off a metallic sound. Kurt assumes it's a lamp post or a trash can.

The noises aren't enough to keep him awake, but they're a nice distraction focusing on to make sure he doesn't fall asleep.

He's afraid he'll ruin Jeff's night.

He's afraid he'll start snoring, even though he's never done that before.

He's afraid he'll talk in his sleep. He knows he's done that during particularly rough nights.

He's afraid of the night getting so extreme he'll end up having a nightmare and scream again.

He's afraid of doing things he's never done before, that will interfere with Jeff's sleep. Like sleep walking or doing a sleep skin care regime or sleep eating.

He's afraid because the door is unlocked, and he can't find it in him to ask Jeff if they can change that.

He's afraid, because he doesn't know Jeff at all, and has far from decided whether he can trust him or not.

He's afraid, because he has no way of escaping this place if he needs to.

He's clutching his phone in his hand, and has doubled checked that his dad is still on speed dial number one, Finn on two, Carole on three, and added Blaine on speed dial number four. At least he's close in distance, and Kurt's best shot at an ally in this place.

Kurt hasn't completely wrapped his mind around the fact that Blaine is here yet. For more than a month, he's been convinced Blaine lives in Los Angeles. And then suddenly he finds him in a private school in Westerville Kurt's never heard of before, until Coach Sylvester and his dad told him he was transferring there. What is Blaine doing in Ohio, when he knows for sure he was in California just a few days ago? Has Blaine been lying to him? Has he been avoiding Kurt? Or was it just a plot to play with him? Can he trust Blaine after all? Nothing makes sense to him.

He sighs, careful to not jostle Jeff, and begins playing games to get his mind on other things and stay awake.

So, _Designers' Alphabet_… Alexander McQueen. Badgley Mischka. Christian Dior. Donatella Versace…

…Aaand Zac Posen. That was easy.

Now musicals. _Against All Odds_. _Bye Bye Birdie_. _Chess_…

* * *

It's 0617 AM, and Kurt regrets not asking Jeff when he usually gets up in the morning. He still hasn't slept a minute this night. He assumes Jeff's first class begins at 0820, as his does, but he hasn't got the faintest idea if Jeff is a morning person or not. If he remembers correctly from David's tour and the information file Principal Morris provided him with, breakfast is served from 7 AM.

He'd like to take a shower, to wake up properly. He'd like to find one of the coffee bars David showed him, to wake up properly. He'd like to go jogging, to wake up properly. He'd like to go home.

He keeps starring at the ceiling, when the door is suddenly yanked open, and someone runs in, diving onto Jeff's bed with a loud shout.

Kurt screams, and jumps out of his bed, looking wildly around the room to find an exit, a weapon, a hiding place; he doesn't know.

"Crap, Kurt, I forgot you're here. I'm so sorry!" Nick scrambles frantically out of bed and approaches the scared boy.

Kurt shivers and crouches down under his new desk, covering himself with his arms over his head.

"Kurt?" Nick says softly, but obviously worried. Kurt can see through his knees that the boy's feet has stopped walking and is standing still in the middle of the room. "We should have thought about telling you. I always come in here half past six to make sure Jeff gets out of bed in time. I didn't mean to scare you," Nick pleads.

Kurt can hear him talk, but it's as if the words make no sense and meaning. He's suddenly freezing, shivering, but also sweating. Odd. He's wearing pyjamas pants and a long sleeved t-shirt, he shouldn't be cold. His heart is beating erratically, he can feel it pound in his ears, in his temples, in his chest, in his back. His stomach hurts, and he briefly wonders if he's going to be sick. His throat thickens, and he's gasping for breath.

If only they could get over with whatever they're waiting to do to him!

"Keep an eye on him; I'll be back soon," he thinks Nick is telling Jeff, and he can see a pair of feet leaving the room.

Is he going to get back up? Do they have friends to help them take him? Did he do something yesterday that offended them? Did he talk with the wrong people? Do they hate David enough to beat him up for joining him on a tour? Shouldn't he have sat with Blaine during the movie? Or do they detest Kurt on a general basis?

God, Kurt is such a stupid mess, getting trapped in a corner like this. He'll never be able to get up from under the desk and escape the room before Jeff can take him down. He closes his eyes and curls up to an even smaller human ball, hoping they'll get it over with soon.

"Kurt, can you hear me?" a familiar voice says, sounding worried and impatient. He must have been calling for Kurt's attention for some time now.

"Blaine!" Kurt hiccups, and a body instantly drops down in front of him, pulling him into his arms. Kurt tenses for a moment, but his subconsciousness recognizes the long lost scent of Blaine, and he instantly relaxes. A distant part of him notices that he's embracing a naked torso.

"I've got you," Blaine murmurs softly in his ear, rocking them slowly back and to.

"I didn't know what to do, and he looked so scared, and I think he was hyperventilating, and do you think it was a panic attack? Can you help him?"

"They didn't mean to frighten you," Blaine continues to murmur, slightly louder. "Jeff is harmless and Nick always means well. They'll leave you for a moment and let you catch your breath," he says softly, and keeps holding Kurt.

In the distance, he can hear retreating foot steps, and a door being closed.

"You _are_ safe," Blaine says insistently.

Kurt hiccups, and lets his tears fall. Blaine kisses his temple, and pulls him closer onto his lap. He doesn't say anything more, just lets Kurt cry and holds him close.

Eventually Kurt calms down, and leans somewhat away from the grip he has on Blaine. He then realizes that the boy in fact is bare-chested. He can't help but stare at the tan, muscular chest, with a nice sprinkling of dark hairs. The broad shoulders and his pronounced biceps, continuing down to really nice arms which are holding around him. Kurt swallows heavily, lifting his gaze to a bashfully smiling Blaine.

"Nick burst into our room telling me you needed me stat, so I didn't waste any time getting dressed," Blaine explains, slightly flustered.

"I'm sorry for being a hassle," Kurt mumbles.

"You are no hassle," Blaine pronounces overly clear to get his point out. "Never ever think that," he emphasizes, kissing Kurt on the forehead.

Blaine gives Kurt some space to wipe away his tears and compose himself.

"How much did you sleep this night? The first night is always difficult."

"I haven't slept," Kurt admits with a sigh.

"Oh Kurt… Are you sure you're up for class today? I could call the school nurse for you, have her come here and fill out an absence slip for you?"

"It's okay," Kurt objects. "I don't have that many classes today, and I don't want to be away on my first day."

"Fine. But I'll do my best to help you through your first day, and you let me know the instant it gets too much."

Blaine looks sternly at Kurt until he nods his agreement.

"Why don't you take a refreshing shower, while I study your schedule to prepare your day?"

"Don't you need to get ready as well?"

"I can be quick today," Blaine smiles calmly. "Come here," he reaches out his hands to help Kurt up.

"Do you want to borrow something to cover up?" Kurt asks as he takes his own clothes out of the wardrobe.

"Maybe that would be a good idea," Blaine chuckles, and scratches the back of his head, looking bashfully at Kurt.

"You'll find my schedule in the folder on the desk," Kurt says, throws an umber collared piqué t-shirt in his direction, and slips into the bathroom.

* * *

"Kurt, why are there so many holes in your schedule?" Blaine asks as soon as Kurt emerges from the bathroom, hair still wet and unstyled.

"I'll explain that when you explain why you gave me the impression you live in LA," Kurt bites, sounding hurt.

"OK, I guess I deserved that," Blaine says calmly. He remembers how overwhelmed he was when he first came to Dalton, and has no doubt Kurt feels some of the same. Blaine didn't sleep much the first nights either, and lack of sleep does increase the crankiness.

"Will you join me for lunch? We can get some talking done then," he suggests, and Kurt nods.

"You're gonna be OK," Blaine promises, and wraps him up in a warm hug. He then lets go of Kurt to unfold his shirt collar. He turns around for the tie Kurt left on his desk chair, and loops it around Kurt's neck.

"I bet there are a lot of new things that confuses you, and you'll need some time to get settled. But I'll be right here for every single step, helping you when you falter and cheer you on when you succeed," Blaine promises as he ties a Windsor knot and adjusts the collar.

"Thank you," Kurt whispers, meeting Blaine's eyes, but looking both embarrassed and grateful.

"Now fix your hair, so we can get some caffeine in our blood levels," Blaine urges.

Kurt spends a couple of extra minutes in front of the mirror, scrutinizing the reflection. He's looking at a familiar face; he's looking at an alien body. The face is Kurt. Hair slightly styled to lift the bangs away from his forehead. Dull eyes, trying not to reveal how tired and anxious he feels. Dark bags under his eyes, covered up with concealer. Lips dry and chopped after a night of licking and biting them nervously.

From his neck and down, he doesn't quite know what he's looking at. The pristine, newly ironed white shirt doesn't look like anything he'd wear before, with its lack of colour or flair. It's a nice shirt, but it's also plain and bland. It still has that crisp stiffness, revealing it's brand new and not made from top quality fabric. The grey pair of trousers is surprisingly nice for a high school uniform. They are obviously well tailored in quality fabric. They could do with some adjustments to sit better on Kurt's body, but he doesn't know if he has the heart and bother to do anything about it. He still feels warm where Blaine's hand rested against his chest and neck to finish his tie and collar.

It's the blazer that alienates him from himself the most, Kurt thinks. He's worn quite some outfits at school, but never anything as… grown-up, mature, serious, businesslike, gentlemanly like this. It makes age and individuality obsolete. It's hard to tell if he's an insecure teenager or if he's an aspiring young man studying law at Harvard. The Dalton crest above his heart is the only telltale of an identity.

Kurt smiles slightly to his own reflection.

Maybe. Just maybe, in this blazer, he can be whoever he wants? Rather, he can be whoever the other students want him to be to be acceptable? He'd tried to hide at McKinley in the crowds, but they already knew who he was, and he was forever locked as The Target. But in this uniform, he can blend in, hide in plain sight, start all over and maybe avoid some of the grief his former surroundings gave him.

He tucks on the sleeves to make sure they cover up his cuff, grabs his satchel and follows Blaine to the kitchen on their floor.

Blaine plugs in the power chord for the shining red Dolce Gusto coffee maker, and points Kurt in the direction of the capsule stand.

"Pick your poison," he encourages.

"I can't just take somebody's coffee," Kurt objects, studying the capsules hungrily.

"Didn't David explain you should feel free to help yourself to anything in here, unless it's marked with a name?"

"But this is expensive coffee someone pays for," Kurt still objects.

"Yes, it's covered by your tuition. So what do you want?" Blaine insists, removing the cup with the Americano he's made for himself.

"I'll take what you're having," Kurt finally relents. "I need something to stay awake for a couple of hours."

Blaine quickly finishes Kurt's coffee as well, and then takes him back to his own room.

"Wes is already gone, he always has a lot to do, so you can relax uninterrupted here," Blaine says, gesturing for him to sit down on his desk chair. "I need to get dressed, but I'll leave the bathroom door open so we can still talk if you want to."

Blaine disappears as soon as he's picked out his clothes; an easy task when they use uniforms. Kurt daintily sits down, and takes in the room. It's fairly similar to the one where he's living, but obviously has a different personal flair to it.

The bed next to where he's sitting is unmade, probably because Blaine really left in a rush when Nick came for him. Kurt feels guilty for ruining his friend's sleep. Several books are stacked on the night table; Kurt recognizes some of them as _Discworld_ books. Blaine has an extra shelf overhead his bed, with more books. Books are lying on top of those stacked properly. His desk is fairly bare, but that's expected when he's been back after the Christmas break for less than 24 hours. Besides a laptop, he has a picture of himself and an older boy. Brother, Kurt guesses, although they don't look much alike. His theory is supported by another framed picture, with the two boys and two grown ups. The woman is sitting on a bench next to Blaine, and the resemblance is striking. A man is standing behind them, next to who Kurt dubbed to be Cooper.

The book shelf is filled with books, knick knacks, some video games, some binders and a couple of music books. His guitar is securely placed on a stand next to the desk. Kurt takes in the rest of the room, sipping his coffee and smiling as he can hear Blaine humming in the bath.

That's when he spots it, almost choking on his coffee.

"That is one interesting poster," he comments loud enough for Blaine to hear.

"Oh God," Blaine groans, and joins Kurt, only wearing grey slacks and a white undershirt. "That," he says, pointing at the poster of a mostly naked David Boreanaz glued to the ceiling over his bed, "was a gift from the boys when I came back yesterday."

"I see," Kurt says calmly. "Are you going to return the favour?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think they'd appreciate a life size Kim Kardashian?"

Blaine's face is blank for an agonizingly long moment, before exploding into a grin.

"You're going to fit in here perfectly!" he beams, pinching Kurt's cheeks playfully between his thumbs and index fingers.

"You need to get ready," Kurt rolls his eyes and swats Blaine's hands away.

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine grins, swatting back like a little kid.

* * *

Blaine's just off the telephone with David, who called to make sure Kurt still was with Blaine. He's responsible for showing Kurt around on his first day and make sure he got to his classes in time, but Blaine had happily taken the tasks from David.

The breakfast line in the dining hall isn't too long, but still long enough for Kurt to change demeanour and body language. Blaine observes how the boy is somewhat curling in on himself, as if he's trying to make himself smaller and invisible. Blaine tries to coax him out by making chitchat and recounting anecdotes from Dalton.

They get their food, and Blaine is about to lead them to a table with some of his friends, but Kurt heads for an empty table in a corner, walking along the walls rather than choosing the shortest path straight across the room. So Blaine adjusts his route, and follows Kurt. He'll let the boy get settled with some of the Dalton madness, before introducing him further to those who actually provide the school with the crazy.

Kurt sits down in a corner, and Blaine could bet anything it's to make sure he has full surveillance and control of the room. He recognizes the strategy from his own efforts at surviving the transfer.

Kurt doesn't say anything, and Blaine can see he's busy taking in as much as possible of the surroundings that now are safe and familiar to Blaine. The new boy is poking in his cereal, something Blaine remembers him doing at Bellefontaine when he was particularly tired or upset.

"We have to go to classes now," Blaine says apologetically, wishing he could offer Kurt more time to finish his untouched food.

Blaine escorts Kurt to the eastern building for his two hours of math, before he'll have to run for his own French class. They walk in silence, but Blaine knows Kurt is observing and absorbing everything happening around them. He's walking with long, quick steps as if he thinks nobody will notice him if he disappears fast enough and isn't in the same space for longer than strictly necessary. Blaine is almost running to keep up, but is giving him some slack today.

"You don't have any classes between math and lunch, right?" Blaine has more or less memorized Kurt's surprisingly sparse schedule, but don't want to come off stalkerish.

"True," Kurt says, one of the few words he's uttered after they left Blaine's room.

"Do you want to meet me outside the dining hall for lunch?"

"Sure."

"If you should want a snack, feel free to help yourself in the kitchen in the dormitory building."

"OK."

Blaine wants to pull his hair out from the frustration he feels, having to force the monosyllables out of Kurt like that. But he also sees how his eyes are flickering in every direction, observing everything, never relaxing, alert and scared like an animal ready for flight.

"I hope you'll enjoy your first class at Dalton, then. Trevor, remember him, the other prefect? He should be in the same class."

The tactile Blaine is restraining himself to not hug Kurt, take his hand, or in any other physical way comfort him, reassure him, wish him luck. He's pretty sure that would do more damage than anything else to the boy trying to stay composed and hide his fear. Blaine remembers how the other boy had flinched and tensed up when he understood Nick and Jeff were dating, as if he expected some of the other boys to attack them. God, how bad did they manage to mess him up in his old school?

He bids Kurt farewell, and walks over to the west wing for French. But he knows he won't be able to focus on foreign grammars and vocabulary today.

Blaine promises himself to keep Kurt's sexuality a secret and not do anything to reveal it, until the boy is ready to let the guys know on his own conditions. Blaine knows nobody will raise an eyebrow, but this has to do with Kurt's feeling of safety and comfort. It means Blaine will have to reign himself in, and tone down the flirting and touching he so easily slips into with Kurt. But he'll do whatever it takes to make Kurt feel comfortable, so Blaine himself can relax and stop worrying.

He feels both protective of and responsible for Kurt. Maybe because he assumes he's the only person Kurt knows? Maybe because the shock of seeing him again so unsuspected reminded him of how strongly he feels for the boy? Blaine had been awake in bed for more than an hour trying to understand how Kurt ended up at Dalton, and how they could have talked so much about the transfer as they did without understanding they were going to the same school. He'd been thinking about Kurt's misunderstand, believing Blaine lived in LA, and trying to remember if he honestly never mentioned Ohio or Westerville in their texts or conversations.

Then he'd spent some time thinking about how good it felt to be close to Kurt again. They sat next to each other under the quilt during the entire movie, holding hands. Blaine's heart had been beating rapidly, and he could feel his own pulse against Kurt's skin. To savour Kurt's scent again, to feel his heat against his own body, to see him, to hold him. It had been Blaine's most memorable movie night at Dalton, for sure. It ended during the credits, when Kurt's phone went off, and he with a quick apology ran off to answer. Half an hour later, Blaine had gotten a text from Kurt explaining he'd been talking with his father, and he'd be going to bed now. Blaine had wished him sweet dreams, hoping his night indeed would be sweet.

Back in their own room, Wes had, with his peace loving and non-intruding manners, commented how Kurt seemed like a quiet and polite young man, and how fortunate for him it turned out he knew at least one person in his new school. Blaine knew this meant Wes was curious about Kurt, giving him an opening to talk about the boy. Which Blaine had chosen to ignore, knowing Wes wouldn't dig for information.

When Nick came torpedoing into their room this morning, rambling about Kurt and an attack, Blaine had been out of bed before he'd even opened his eyes. His second reaction had been flashes back to his own attack at the school dance. But then he realized Nick was talking about a panic attack, and Blaine could breathe more easily. Kurt was fairly safe, but needed a friendly face. So he'd sprinted to Kurt and Jeff's room, trying to get the boy out of his spell.

Then he'd seen Kurt's schedule, which had been really confusing. He'd be doing less than 50 per cent study progression, with only math, French and biology. Could he really only be in need of those three classes to be ready for graduation? Blaine didn't know which school Kurt transferred from, but he did know that few schools could compete with the curriculum and academic achievements Dalton could show for. Yet it looked as if Kurt would complete his senior year at Dalton with most classes already covered for.

Well, hopefully Blaine will get some questions answered during lunch.

* * *

Blaine leaves Kurt to go to his own class, and Kurt suddenly feels really lost and lonely. Uniform clad boys are walking in the hallways, talking and laughing, but being calm and controlled unlike the chaos of noise and movements that usually rumpled the hallways of McKinley. Kurt decides to enter the mathematic room and get away from the hallways just in case. Hidden in a room the chances of being targeted lessen.

Kurt's the first to enter the room, and he hopes they don't have assigned seats. He takes a chance on choosing his own desk, and settles down in the back in the corner furthest away from the door. He doesn't know what to expect from Dalton classes, but at least this position will enable him with a good view of what goes on in the room, and will prevent anyone from sitting behind him blowing spit balls in his neck and hair.

So far, being in the uniform isn't too bad. He'd underestimated the value of coded clothes, though. The Letterman jackets and the Cheerio uniforms had been important signifiers to help him identify on a distance who to avoid and when trouble was coming his way. Here, with everybody in the same uniform, they obviously look the same and are harder to keep apart.

Or, they all _seem_ to look the same. For some reason, Blaine is really rocking the whole dapper uniform image. Kurt had almost lost his breath when the boy came out from his bathroom, fully dressed and ready. Those pants had to be tailored to fit Blaine. No way could they be brought directly from storage to his wardrobe without meeting a needle. And this was not some cheap jab at Blaine's height. The way those trousers seem to fit over his thighs, and the little glimpse Kurt had gotten of his behind before he put on his blazer… Either Blaine was stupidly more muscular in that area than any other guy Kurt had seen in the same uniform at Dalton, or his body was born to wear a uniform like that – or the uniform was made to be worn by Blaine.

And the thought of the blazer on top of that… Kurt would with an easy heart bet his entire collection of scarves that had been modified for Blaine's frame. Nobody was supposed to pull of a freaking high school uniform as well as Blaine does. How it accentuates his shoulders, perfectly ending where Blaine's shoulder ends and with sleeves of perfect length. That just doesn't happen to clothes bough in dozens and dozens to be distributed in a school. And then how the blazer clung to his back, underlining how strong and firm his back is, and how narrow and tempting his waist it, alluring Kurt to fold his arms around it and squeeze him close. And as if that wasn't enough, the blazer managed to hint at a delicious butt under there, instead of completely hiding it or making it seem big and shapeless.

Not fair. At. All.

It's not as if Kurt's been able to explore widely what does and doesn't do it for him, but he didn't think he'd be that stereotypical and be into _school uniforms_… Huh, turns out he most definitely is. Luckily, it seems to take effect only when Blaine wears it. Otherwise, Kurt would have had a major problem at hand in and out of every single class. The uniform isn't _hideous_ on the other boys he's seen, although he finds it has room for improvement in both colour and style. But it does something to Blaine. Or Blaine does something to it. Hopefully the thrill and rush of seeing Blaine in a uniform will wear off before they start sharing classes.

"Hey, Kurt, wasn't it?"

Kurt nods and smiles timidly, but politely at the two approaching figures. As Blaine predicted, Trevor is indeed in his math class, and is also one of the few faces from last night Kurt can put a name to. The other boy isn't someone he recognizes, though.

"I'm Thad," the other boy introduced, extending a hand towards Kurt.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Kurt," he says unnecessarily and automatically, accepting the hand and making the handshake quick. He focuses on talking with a clear voice, not showing hesitation or uncertainty. _Don't show any weaknesses_, he keeps as a mantra spinning in his head.

The boys sit down by the two desks in front of Kurt. Kurt expects them to ignore the new kid, and is surprised when they turn around in their chairs and smiles eagerly at him.

"Did David talk you through the extracurricular activities Dalton offers?" Trevor asks.

"I'm afraid I haven't had time to have a look at it yet," Kurt says apologetically. The truth is Ben & Jerry's will be moving their production and storage to the Devil's lair before Kurt exposes himself to more student interaction than strictly needed.

"Most activities have auditions and admissions at the beginning of each school year, but we'll always be flexible with mid year transfers," Trevor explains. "I'm dedicated to student politics, being the school president. We always need more students eager to make a change, though, so let me know and I can find a committee for your liking."

"I'm in the Council of the Warblers, our Glee club," Thad adds. "If you're interested in singing and dancing, I'd be glad to set up an audition for you. Oh, and David is on the soccer team if you're more into sports," he adds.

"Thank you, that's nice of you, but I don't think those are my cups of tea," Kurt says carefully, afraid of offending anyone.

"That's cool," Trevor shrugs. "You'll find all the clubs represented online, if you want to do some research. It's fun to do more than just homework at school, and it's a great way getting to know more people," he encourages.

Kurt realizes more boys have trickled in the room, and almost all desks are occupied by now. He scolds himself for not paying closer attention to the door, to be in control of who enters the room, and spot who may be a threat to him.

"Is this seat taken?" a deep voice growls, and Kurt looks up to see the face of the voice talking next to him. His eyes land on a taller-than-Finn-tall guy, shoulders as wide as a door, tan skin, and bottle blonde spiked hair.

Kurt quickly takes in the rest of the room, and his neighbour desk is the only available. Not that he could have refused the giant to sit down anyway, even though he's a manifestation of everything Kurt's learned to be wary of and stay away from.

So he nods at the beefy flag pole, and moves his satchel to the other side of his chair to make sure he isn't taking any space from him.

"Henry," the human mountain says, presenting his hand to Kurt.

"Kurt."

The handshake is firm, but not the arm wrestling squishing grip he more or less expected.

"Do you have an extra pencil? I couldn't find my school stuff in my suitcase this morning."

Kurt gives him the only pencil he owns. He can use a pen to take notes, even in math, no stress.

"Happy New Year, class," a melodic female voice greets, and Kurt looks up at the blackboard to spot his math teacher. She's a petite Asian, wearing black slacks and a navy blazer reminding of the uniform the students are wearing, but without the crest and piping. Her eyes roam the room for a moment. "I see everybody is present, including our new student. Excellent. Class, welcome Mr. Kurt Hummel," she says, and at once he can feel 24 pair of eyes on him. He tries not to flinch or cower away, puts on a smile, and avoids as many eyes as possible.

"These are the dates for your math tests this semester," the teacher begins, quickly scribbling the dates on the blackboard, and then continues her lesson.

They have two lessons of math going back to back, but the teacher – who Kurt eventually learns is called Mrs. Lee – offers them a fifteen minutes long break halfway. Henry quickly leaves, and Kurt feels as if he can breathe more properly. Trevor and Thad turn around to talk with him again, however.

"Let us know if you want to join our study group," Trevor offers. "I don't know if your teacher had the same progression at your old school, and if you left at the same place as we did before Christmas break. We'd be happy to help you get à jour, or if you just want to join a nice study group," he smiles.

"Thank you; good to know," he forces out a smile.

Kurt doesn't mention he hasn't been in school since the beginning of November, and then he was ditching certain classes, and lacked all kinds of focus in other classes. Most of his senior year is a black spot in his memory, to be honest. But he isn't that honest with strangers. Hell, few of his friends know anything about this.

Henry comes back just before next class is about to begin, and he reeks of cigarettes. Kurt briefly wonders if he'll be able to hold his breath for the next 45 minutes.

That he isn't, but by subtly tilting his chair slightly away from Henry, he survives the lesson. As soon as Mrs. Lee dismisses them, he jumps up ready to leave.

"Do you want us to walk you to your next class?" Thad offers.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. I have some things I need to do first," he says evasively.

Thad looks a bit funnily at him, but lets it go and waves a goodbye as Kurt disappears. Kurt has two free hours and a lunch to go through before his next class. He'd like to go back to his room to pick up his phone which he forgot this morning. But the key card he needs in order to enter the dormitory building isn't ready to be picked up until after lunch. He has the ordinary key for his room, but is it any point in hanging outside the building hoping someone comes by to let him in? Won't all students be in class by now? He curses his bad fortune, and decides to explore the library. Books are fun, and stereotypically – but reoccuringly true – bullies are seldom brainiacs.

Luckily, he brought the binder he got from the principal, so he uses his spare time to read through some of the regulations, rules and information sheets she provided him with.

* * *

"So, I guess we both have questions," Blaine simply states after they've settled down in a secluded corner with their food.

Kurt notices both Jeff and Nick looking in their direction, but they give him his privacy. He should probably apologize, and try to explain without revealing what a nutcase he is before they get the chance to gossip with too many of their friends about him.

"Don't worry about them," Blaine says, looking in the same direction as Kurt does. "They're not the blabbermouth kind of guys, and you'll struggle to expose them to something I haven't already done," he grins wickedly. "They're really great guys, and you'll get two faithful, devoted, kind hearted and patient friends if you give them a chance."

"We'll see," Kurt shrugs. "I'm here to graduate; not to increase my Facebook activity."

"Speaking of graduation – your schedule really makes me curious."

"I really wish I could borrow Hermione's Time-Turner," Kurt sighs. "Although my problem is the opposite of hers."

"So instead of taking two classes at the same time, you're not taking any classes at all at some time slots?"

"Basically, yes. Christy recommends I spend three semesters to finish my senior year, dad supports her, Coach Sylvester agrees, and she somehow managed to convince Principal Morris to let me do that."

"Who's Coach Sylvester?"

Kurt spends the next fifteen minutes trying to explain the enigma of the Cheerios' alma mater, and how she's taken a rather obsessive interest in Kurt's well being.

"And what is her connection to our principal? How did she get you into Dalton?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Kurt shrugs. "She told my dad Principal Morris owned her a big one. So they accepted my transfer without questions, and agreed to let me do my senior year in a different pace. And, just to prove how scary and powerful Coach Sylvester can be, she managed to convince the Dalton administration my tuition should be cut in half because I'm not studying full time – even though I'm boarding full time." Kurt takes a moment to take a sip of his ice tea.

"Oh, and she even managed to find an ancient scholarship established by a former Dalton patron, to support sissy wimps like me who needs protection from matters concerning life and death," Kurt chuckles self deprecatingly. "Turns out, having a death threat over your head can be economically profitable and reduce my dad's expenses to almost nothing," he snorts, but isn't able to stop a few tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

Blaine lets go of his earlier promise, and takes Kurt's hand under the table.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Kurt shakes his head.

"OK, but let me know if you change your mind. And listen to me. You are not a sissy or a wimp. You couldn't stay in your old school, and I'm so glad you came here," he says fiercely, strengthening his hold in Kurt's hand. "I'm ashamed I didn't think about mentioning Dalton to you, because it's perfect for guys like you and me. But I'm relieved your coach knew about us and could make sure you got here. We have to find out more about her machinations, though, she's making me really curious," Blaine grins, trying to lighten Kurt's mood.

"That's Coach Sylvester for you. You do not want to explore her inner workings. The journey may damage your soul," Kurt states solemnly, but Blaine only laughs.

"If you say so," he winks. "But to make sure I got it right. We'll be graduating together, because you're taking a few classes this semester, and the rest of your senior year with me?"

"That would be correct."

"You don't have to answer, but why?"

"I'll tell," Kurt shrugs, but looks around them to see if anyone's sitting close enough to eavesdrop. He lowers his voice as he continues.

"I was fairly out of it most of last semester. I was miserable in school, and spent so much energy on being scared, I didn't function in classes. I don't remember much of what I was supposed to be taught, and almost flunked my tests. I've also struggled with my concentration, and that's why Christy recommends doing my senior year in a slower pace. Hopefully my brain will be back to its normal capacity by the time I go to college."

"I can understand that. When my depression is at its worst, I have problems focusing, and it's as if nothing I read can stick to my memory."

"Dad wondered if I should maybe stay home and focusing on getting better this semester, and then repeat my senior year next year entirely. But Christy disagreed, thinking it'd be better for me to get back on the horse, although a smaller horse. Or something like that," Kurt shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows, stumbling in his metaphor.

"I remember we talked about it at Bellefontaine," Blaine almost whispers. "You could spend hours trying to read one or two pages of my books."

"That's one of the reason Christy suggested to Principal Morris I take math and biology this semester. It's not as much to read as in literature or history, and I don't have to understand a chain of reactions, cause and effect, and all that. Two plus two is four, it's nothing to understand or debate, and hopefully it'll be easier for me to memorize things than analyze them."

"I can see the reasoning. I hope it works out for you."

Kurt shrugs, not feeling confident about this plan considering how he feels after just two hours of lessons today.

"Oh, and I assume you're taking French because you're already fluent, so it won't be work for you?"

Kurt nods, smiling smugly for a moment.

"Anyway, they don't think I'm ready for full school days, and I guess I can't object. I'm exhausted," Kurt sighs. "I don't know if I was ready to come here at all now."

"You'll feel better once you get some sleep," Blaine reassures him. "And I'm glad Principal Morris could accommodate for your needs. Dalton is a great school and has been a safe refugee for many a struggling student. They are well-known for doing their best to adjust for individual needs, even though it seems like an old-fashioned and strict school. The teachers have really gone all out to help me at times too," Blaine explains, and knowing he isn't the only one actually makes Kurt feel better.

"Let me know if you want me to introduce you to seniors you can join for study groups. Most of my closest friends are obviously juniors, but I know people," Blaine grins.

"I was approached by Trevor and Thad, and they offered me to join their study group," Kurt hesitates. He doesn't know if he can trust them, and he doesn't know how he can explain to them he really hasn't learned any of the senior math yet. He doesn't want to be a burden, and should probably just cram on his own.

"I knew Trevor would be there," Blaine beams. "He's a nice guy. He's the senior prefect, but is really nice and fair, and hasn't digested the entire rule book. He's lenient and easy to talk with."

Kurt nods, thinking about how David had acted yesterday. He'd seem anything but lenient, and Kurt is convinced he's a power tripping, power abusing bully in disguise.

"Thad's a Warbler, and despite his constant nagging about me joining them officially, he's a really great guy. He's obsesses with classical music, and I know for a fact he aces math. Who else have you met today?"

"Nobody, really," Kurt plays it off cool, trying not to think about the scary boy that sat down next to him. If he ignores him, maybe he seizes to exist?

"It's impossible to be a hermit in this school, especially when you're boarding."

"Is that a warning?"

"Maybe?" Blaine wiggles his eyebrows.

"We'll see," Kurt simply says, thinking about how often he was hiding out in the open at McKinley. Dalton can hardly be any different. "So, why are you _here_?" he says, directing the focus away from him and hoping to get some of his confusion solved.

"You think I live in LA because I flew out there when I was discharged."

"And because you sent pictures from the beach and Disneyworld. And because you never said anything else. And because you told me about your father's freaking business plans for you in San Francisco," Kurt almost shouts.

"I'm sorry if it messed with your head. It was never my intention to mislead you," Blaine says sincerely. "I'm so just to my friends here knowing everything about me, I forgot that you're a new friend and still have things to learn. It feels as if I've known you for a very long time," he smiles fondly at him.

"Me too," Kurt mumbles. "But I feel really intimidated by all the things I may not know." Kurt needs to know, he needs to be in control, he needs information to be able to relax. He doesn't trust easily, and he knows trust can easily be revoked if he feels threatened or unsafe.

"I went to LA after the discharge to see my family for a couple of days before coming back here, to Dalton. Dr. Whimchester always recommends spending a couple of days with my family to ease my way back to the real world. And obviously I went back for Christmas."

"So there are students from all over the States attending Dalton?"

"Yeah, some are from other states, because Dalton has a really good reputation and can be a sanctuary. Some alumni send their sons here, even though they live somewhere else now. But Kurt, I'm Ohioan."

"With Californian parents."

"No, not really," Blaine exhales slowly. "My father is from Columbus and my mom is from Italy."

Kurt nods; he remembers about his mom now.

"I grew up in Columbus, and father worked there. Apparently he's really good at what he does, so they wanted him in Chicago. Mom didn't want to move from our home and she didn't want to take Cooper and me out of school, so father got an apartment in Chicago, and commuted. We'd see him most weekends."

"Isn't Chicago six hours away?"

"He became a millionaire of frequent flyer miles," Blaine nods.

"I'm sorry; carry on," Kurt encourages, still confused about LA.

"Right. The main office is in LA, and they were impressed with his work. They have smaller offices all over the States, even some abroad. For a while, father lived and worked in Toronto. Anyway, they offered him a lot of money to come to LA, and I think it was difficult for him to decline. Especially because mom got sicker around then, and the doctor recommended moving to somewhere warmer."

Blaine takes a break in his recounting, and meets Kurt's eyes. Hearing about a sick mom had churned painfully in Kurt's stomach, and he knows it shows on his face.

"She's asthmatic," Blaine explains. "So, long story somewhat shorter. I was already here, so they moved to LA, where my brother had been pursuing an acting career for years. They bought a big house, Cooper moved in with them, and I have my own room there. They live in California during the cold months, but come back to Columbus when mom can breathe more easily here. By now, father is travelling so much in his job it really doesn't matter where we live. He was in Moscow and London at some point while I was in Bellefontaine, he spent New Year's Eve in Beijing, and right now I think he's in New York."

"I'm not even going to ask what he does, because I don't think I would understand."

"Good. I know I don't understand," Blaine laughs softly. He takes out his phone from his pocket, and goes rigid.

"We have to get to class," he complains. "But I want you to know I never intended to lie to you or fool you. It simply slipped my mind. It sounds like a terrible excuse, but it never occurred to me you'd think I wasn't living in Ohio."

"It's OK," Kurt shrugs, but he still feels confused.

"We can talk more afterwards," Blaine promises as they leave the dining hall. "You have French now, right? I have literature, so we're headed for the same building," he continues after Kurt's affirming nod.

* * *

Even at Dalton, French is a walk in the park for Kurt, but he tries not to let Mr. Young notice. He doesn't want to stick out in class, he doesn't want to put his neck out, he doesn't want to be seen.

Mr. Young uses most of their class to talk about his plans for this semester. He tells them first in French, and then translates it to English. Kurt doesn't need the translation. Several of the boys in the room do.

Kurt takes a deep breath of relief. Math had been painfully difficult, and it's good to know there's at least one class he still kills. Whatever would he do without Coach Sylvester?

"Before I let you go, I want you to meet our new student," Mr. Young announces at the end of the class. "I do love to pair you up for work, so you should all be introduced. Would you like to say a few words about yourself, Mr. Hummel?" the teacher asks. "You can do it in English," he reassures him when panic flashes over Kurt's face. But that's not what bothers him, at all.

Kurt stands up on jelly-shaking legs, supporting himself by clutching at the back of his chair. He takes a deep breath, and musters all of his powers to keep his voice from trembling.

"My name is Kurt Hummel," he says, eyes sweeping across the room without really looking at anyone or anything, but still seeming interested. "I'm from Lima, and have just transferred." And oh, he realizes he should have developed a back story for why he's changing schools. Hopefully nobody will ask immediately.

He doesn't know what else to say, and sits down. Mr. Young looks questioningly at him, but doesn't say anything, and dismisses the class.

Kurt knows his teachers have been informed by Principal Morris about the background for his transfer, and what he may need of individual adjustments. It makes Kurt's skin crawl. He wonders what they're thinking. He wonders if they take pity on him, or are offended by being given a "special needs"-student just like that. He wonders if they already hate him, or if it'll come gradually.

He sighs, and heads for the caretaker's office to pick up his key card.

* * *

Jeff unlocks the door to his room with one hand, the other firmly clutching Nick's hair. Their lips are merged together, breathing each other. They stumble across the threshold, Nick's hand firmly placed on Jeff's hips to keep him steady, walking backwards into the room and feeling really excited about this quick make out session before they'll have to show up for Warblers' rehearsal. Nick kicks at the door to close it again with a loud bang, and the two boys are abruptly separated by the sound of a high pitched yelp.

"Oh my God," Jeff whines devastated. "I'm so, so sorry, Kurt, I forgot you could be here. Again! I'm the worst room mate in history."

He's wringing his hands, looking sadly and apologetically at Kurt.

"Jeff didn't have a room mate last semester, so we've gotten used to use this room as we want. I'm sorry, we'll get a grip on ourselves and behave," Nick explains and reassures Kurt, who in the meantime has crawled out of his rumbled bed cover.

"Nononono, that's OK, I'll go," Kurt stutters rapidly, slipping into a pair of high-top sneakers and pulling a chunky sweater out of his wardrobe.

"We're not chasing you out of your own room, Kurt?" Nick asks confused, and Jeff just looks sad.

"I have things to do," Kurt answers frantically, twirling four times around himself as if he's looking for something.

He unplugs the phone from the charger and slips it into a front pocket of the jeans he'd fallen asleep in.

Without looking at either boy, he disappears out of the room.

"I honestly forgot about him. I can be more considerate," Jeff says sadly.

"I forgot too. He's been here, what, 24 hours? We'll remember from now on," Nick says calmly, leading his boyfriend over to his bed. "Do you think he's uncomfortable with us?"

"From the little I've seen, I think he's uncomfortable, period."

"Hopefully it'll be better once he gets to know us. He ate lunch with Blaine, after all, so he'll quickly be introduced and included among the guys," Nick predicts.

"Maybe he'll want to join the Warblers? I'll have to pay attention to if he sings in the shower."

"Stalkerish much?" Nick grins, and pecks his boyfriend's lips.

"Just trying to ease my new roomie into school activities," Jeff grins back, reciprocating the chaste kiss.

"Considering we scared off your roomie, we could take advantage of this empty room until Wes begins looking for us…"

"OK, but starting tomorrow we're going to be Kurt's new best friends," Jeff says sternly, until Nick's tickling cracks his strict façade.

* * *

"Have you slept anything at all today?" Blaine feigns nonchalance to not let Kurt see how worried he is for him. Said boy is sitting in his bed with his knees pressed into his chest. He'd knocked on Blaine's door, looking an odd mix of flustered and tired, and of course Blaine had let him in.

"Maybe an hour, before I was awoken," Kurt murmurs drowsily.

"Who woke you up?" Blaine asks worriedly, the protective wolf howling in his chest.

"N-n-nobody," the tired boy stutters.

"Jeff and Nick are harmless, but they can be a bit absorbed in each other," Blaine fake shrugs, and Kurt's facial expression lets him know he nailed the culprits in one.

"Where is your roommate?"

"He won't be back until after dinner. Wes is preparing the first Warblers' rehearsal of the semester with the rest of the Council."

"That's the Glee club, where you're an honorary member?"

"If that's what you'd like to call it, when I usually sit in on their rehearsals, and join some of the songs for fun, but has never auditioned and never perform in public with them," Blaine says soberly. His odd membership of the Glee club is his sore Achilles' heel.

"Don't you have to leave, then?" Kurt mumbles, sliding down on the mattress, just minutes away from falling asleep.

"The best part about being an honorary member is choosing when you want to be there and not," Blaine chuckles humourlessly.

"Don't wanna 'fere with plans," Kurt exhales.

"You're not interfering anything," Blaine says softly. "You just go to sleep, and I'll make sure nobody disturbs you."

Kurt doesn't respond, and Blaine is pretty certain the boy is already gone.

* * *

Kurt bolts up like a catapult less than an hour later. He looks bewildered and confused around himself, until he remembers he's at Dalton, and he's in Blaine's room. Said boy is sitting by his desk, typing on the laptop. He's listening to his iPod, with the headset connected to his ears.

Seeking out Blaine when Jeff and Nick surprised him had been an instant reflex. He's still confused and hurt by the whole Ohio/California-mix, and part of him would prefer to avoid Blaine altogether. But he learned to trust him while they were at Bellefontaine. Blaine has proved worthy of a friendship during the weeks since he was discharged, with the exception of Kurt's slight feeling of neglect and betrayal. He misunderstood Blaine's whereabouts. But Blaine should have known Kurt was in Ohio. Why didn't he do something about it?

It would be so easy to let the hurt, the disappointment, the frustration, the anger absorb him, and abandon Blaine all together. But Kurt hasn't got anybody else at Dalton.

Sure, he was lonely at McKinley, and learned to both endure and take advantage of his solitude. But Kurt knew McKinley, he knew the students and teachers. Knowing how unsafe he was, was also a kind of safety. Everything was familiar, even though it was far from enjoyable. While here, at Dalton, he knows absolutely nothing. It would be wise to stick with Blaine.

David the Prefect had let Kurt know he could ask for his help at any time. But Kurt isn't too sure about him yet. Jeff seems nice enough, from the little they've interacted. But he also seems really absorbed with his boyfriend. He most definitely doesn't want to be the fifth wheel. And he doubts how wise it would be to be associated with the apparently open and out gay couple in school. It could only mean Kurt would present himself as a target, as a red flag for the bullies in school. A shiver runs through his body as he thinks about how Henry would have reacted in math if he had seen Kurt hang out with Jeff and Nick, or knew that Kurt is also gay.

So, he'll stick with Blaine. Because he needs someone in this foreign environment and Blaine is the best he has at the moment.

Besides, he really, really likes having Blaine as a friend, and wants this to work. There's something about the boy that makes Kurt think he's the best friend he's ever had and will ever have.

OK, so he recognizes the logical fault in his plan. If he's afraid to be associated with Jeff and Nick because of their sexuality, the same should apply for Blaine as well. But…

Oh, to hell with it. Kurt can't explain it, but as long as he's the only one questioning it, he'll be fine.

Kurt would really like to ask Blaine some questions, though. He really wants to understand why Blaine didn't try harder to find him, meet him. If Blaine can't give him any good answers, he might reconsider his plan to stick with him. Grilling Blaine is a safety precaution. Kurt's been walked all over for so long. It's about time he does something for himself and stands up for himself.

He looks over at Blaine again, who's bopping his head rhythmically, his feet tapping in a matching beat, and he's twirling a pen between his index finger and middle finger. A tiny smile graces his face. His gaze disappears somewhere out the window and he looks both lost and submerged in the music. Kurt wonders what's going on in that mind of his.

As if he can feel Kurt's eyes on him, Blaine turns around. He removes the headphones, and smiles at Kurt.

"Did you enjoy your nap?"

"Why didn't you look for me?"

Blaine's face falls, and he stares at his toes for a moment.

"I thought you were in California, and acted accordingly," Kurt continues, surprised by the lack of waver in his voice. "But you must have known I was in Ohio. My friends visited me, they couldn't have been living that far away, don't you think?"

Oh, and there you are, the tears that Kurt had hoped he'd be able to hold back. But the hurt and disappointment and humiliation and defeat is too heavy to hold back.

"Kurt…" Blaine whispers brokenly. He gets up from the chair and sits down next to him. "Yes, I was confident you lived nearby," he confirms. "And I did try a couple of times to encourage you to meet me."

"What? When?" Kurt exclaims frustrated.

"I asked you out a couple of times," Blaine mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast shyly on his own lap. "And I asked to visit you during Christmas."

"I didn't think you should spend that kind of money just to see me. I didn't understand how we'd make things work," Kurt mumbles.

"You thought I was Californian," Blaine murmurs, a shadow of a smile spreading across his face.

"You never realized the misunderstanding…"

They lock eyes for a moment, smiling bashfully. But Kurt isn't done.

"Still, Blaine. A month with Skype, texts and phone calls, and never once did you try to identify where I live."

Blaine sighs, running a hand through his semi-gelled hair. He takes a deep breath, and then one more.

"Eventually I appreciated the semi-anonymity we shared. I consider you a good friend, and I know a lot about you. But there are also a lot of things I don't know. There are a lot of things you don't know about me either. It felt safe opening up to someone I wouldn't have to face in school the next day. We could be there for the other, on our own terms. It felt… liberating. I could tell you something and have a melt down, without worrying about facing you with my post-embarrassment anytime soon. And I though maybe it was something you needed too: Someone close; but still distant. I know you've withdrawn from your friends back home. I didn't want to risk losing you because we were too close for your comfort zone."

Blaine's given his entire speech without looking away from Kurt. His eyes are moist, but it's nothing compared to the tears running down Kurt's cheeks.

"You've really given this a lot of thought, haven't you?" Kurt hiccups.

Blaine simply nods.

"I'm sorry for transferring," Kurt whispers. "I'm sorry for ruining everything for you."

"Kurt…" Blaine says breathlessly. "You most certainly haven't ruined anything. I'd much rather have you here. I _like_ spending time with you. I'll always prefer the real deal," he smiles wickedly. "But… If you think it'll be difficult to keep the friendship the way it's been, I understand," he say soberly.

"We can't know until we've tried?" Kurt asks with a half shrug. "I like being your friend. I've missed you. I'm really glad I found you here."

"Like wise," Blaine beams. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you in the common's room. We've been able to talk honest with each other face to face before. I have faith we can do it again," he smiles.

"Agreed."

"Hug?"

Kurt responds by leaning in and wrapping his arms around Blaine's shoulders. The warmth from Blaine's hands on his back makes him deflate and sigh with happiness. This is right.


	34. Perspectives

**I'm so, so sorry for keeping you wait this long for an update, but I haven't been at my best the last weeks, and it's been difficult to focus on this story. There has been some changes in my life that will be good in the long run, but is kind of messing me up at the moment.**

**I should also give you a heads up that I do not have any professional psychiatric training. My knowledge with the psychiatric health care is as a patient, so if something seems off or wrong in this story, that's why - I'm faking it. There are so many ways to heal, and this is just one story with one approach, loosely based on my own experiences, and some research I've done. I hope you can accept that, and I should have mentioned it earlier.**

**Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews after the last chapter, I hope you're still with me. To the anon reviewer who asked about more Furt and Mercedes - I believe next chapter will please you.**

**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a faithful reader and reviewer, to an amazing author, and to a wonderful person I've had the pleasure to get to know in here - check out her stories if you haven't! _Nightingale63_ - this is my gift to you on a very special day!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

Jeff is already awake when Nick knocks on their door.

Last night, they had agreed on a couple of new rules for their interactions, hoping it would make things easier for Kurt. Jeff had wanted to run the rules and changes by Kurt, so he could come with his own input and finally give his approval of their adjustments. But Nick had objected, saying it wasn't any point doing so at the moment. Kurt had barely uttered a word to any of them after they were introduced, and he'd seemed so scared and out of it last morning, Nick suggested they try other approaches to warm him up to them.

Jeff had relented, although he didn't quite like it. This wasn't his room anymore; it was _their_ room, and he wanted Kurt to know what was going on, and let the new boy feel he had a saying. But again, Nick had been the voice of reason, arguing that Kurt wouldn't notice most of the changes anyway, as he hadn't been living there for more than 36 hours.

"Besides," Nick had added, "he always seems to skittish, like a tiny bunny hiding in the grass, knowing the fox is around, ready to run for it if he's noticed. Don't you think he'd feel more in the spotlight if we tell him all of our thoughts right now?"

"I just want to help him and let him know we want to be his friends."

"I know you do, Jeff, you're a sweetheart like that," Nick had said, brushing his too long bangs away from his forehead. "But sometimes care and consideration are shown best through actions, and don't necessarily need any words to explain them."

"You're the smartest," Jeff had sighed and leaned in to kiss him.

"And you're the kindest," Nick had murmured back.

So, from now on Nick will always knock on their door before entering, and he'll be more human in his morning rituals to rouse Jeff from sleep. They will also keep their hormones in reign until they've checked if the room is empty. There will be no more nocturnal sneaking in to Jeff. And they will try to calm down their crazy in front of Kurt.

They had also agreed to work hard to make Kurt feel included. They'd noticed how reluctant he'd seem to join when David invited him to movie night in the common's room. Nick had made a good guess Kurt wouldn't make any initiative on his own to join the boys in anything, so they would have to make sure he wasn't left out.

Nick enters the room, and he can't hide his surprise for his boyfriend when he notices Jeff is already awake. Jeff does love to sleep. But he woke up an hour ago to some strange sounds. His heart broke when he realized they came from Kurt's bed, and it wasn't the kind of embarrassing, over-sharing sounds Nick sometimes had woken up to hear his last roommate make. Kurt was whimpering, and saying something Jeff couldn't really identify, but the boy had sounded distressed.

His instant reaction had been to leave his bed and wake Kurt up – but then he remembered last morning, and he was afraid to scare the boy more than his nightmare could. So instead of touching the boy, he'd try to ease him out of his nightmare in other ways. He'd sat up, turned on his bedside lamp, and made some random noise as he deliberately rummaged roughly through the things on his night table to find the book they're reading for English. He'd shuffled and flipped and moved around in bed, hoping to disturb Kurt awake. But to no avail. He'd called the boy's name softly a couple of times, but nothing. He got out of bed and turned on every single lamp in the room, but the boy was still making sad noises.

It wasn't until Jeff hit play on his iPod in the docking station, that he saw some change in Kurt. He chose a random play list, and at the sound of The Beatles' _Imagine_ Kurt's breath had slowed down, he'd grown silent, and the steady rise and fall of his chest told Jeff the boy was finally sleeping again.

"Why are you playing The Beatles?" Nick asks softly, curiously, and sits down on Jeff's bed.

"He doesn't strike me as a Rolling Stones-kind of guy," Jeff shrugs.

Nick chuckles and nuzzles his nose in the crook of Jeff's neck, before getting up to pull the curtains apart and let some semi-light in.

"It's no fun to wake up someone's who already awake," he jokingly complains.

"Rough night," Jeff explains, tilting his head in Kurt's direction.

Nick nods his head in understanding.

"Do you know if he set his alarm?"

"I think so," Jeff says hesitantly, trying to remember what Kurt did before he turned off the light last night.

"OK. Did you complete our English assignment?" Nick asks concerned, sitting down behind Jeff and wrapping his boyfriend up in his arms and legs.

"No, but it isn't due until tomorrow," Jeff shakes his head. "I'm sure I'll get it done tonight."

"Let me know if I can help you, OK? You don't have to be stupidly brave and always manage everything on your own, you know," Nick reminds him, and kisses him behind his ear. "You seriously need a haircut; I get hair in my mouth."

Jeff can't help the snort that escapes him - there are other situations where Nick most certainly doesn't complain about what gets in his mouth - and leans back against Nick's chest.

"I let it grow during the break. Mommy dearest was fuming," he giggles.

Nick is about to answer, but stops when Kurt moves in his bed. A tired looking face peaks up from covers tucked up to his nose, narrow eyes squint and adjust to the light, and messy hair elevates from the forehead when Kurt blows on it.

"Good morning," Jeff says softly once he's sure Kurt's recognized where he is.

Kurt still startles, but he gives them a timid smile, looking somewhere to their left, and nods in acknowledgment.

"May I use the bathroom?" he whispers hoarsely, studying the fist clutching his covers, and Jeff quickly nods.

"Sure, go ahead, no need to ask," he smiles, figuring Kurt may not see him.

Kurt climbs out of bed and Jeff easily notices how stiff and tense he seems. He can't have been sleeping very well. Kurt quickly picks up his clothes from the wardrobe, and disappears to the bathroom. He doesn't meet their eyes or even look in their direction the entire time.

"Do you think he's uncomfortable with us and what we have," Jeff worries his lower lip, and gestures between his boyfriend and himself.

"Love, I think Kurt is uncomfortable, period. He doesn't strike me as a homophobe, rather the opposite."

"Stereotyping!" Jeff scolds warningly.

"I know; I'm sorry. Regardless, he seems to be a friend of Blaine's, and he probably knows he's gay, so he should be fine with us."

"Yeah, but you know as well as I do that some people are really untroubled by gay guys until they act on it. What if this was too much?" he asks, and pats the legs and arms embracing him from behind.

"I think you worry too much. You over-think everything. He didn't seem offended, and yesterday when we barged in he looked more surprised and flustered than disgusted. It'll be OK. Besides, I'm willing to go pretty far to help him adjust and settle down, but I refuse to change us. We don't have to kick down the door while making out, but I'm allowed to hold you."

Jeff tilts his head to plant a wet kiss on Nick's cheek.

"Again, you're the one with the brain."

"And you're the one with the looks."

"And that's delusional; as you are clearly stunningly gorgeous."

"Then just imagine how hot I find you in comparison," Nick murmurs seductively in Jeff's ear.

"Okay stud, I've got a roommate now. I should get dressed anyway," Jeff giggles, and wiggles loose from Nick's grasp on him.

When Kurt exits the bath, Jeff is in uniform, and the couple is ready to leave.

"Do you want to join us for breakfast?" Jeff asks eagerly.

"We're going by Blaine's to see if he's ready as well," Nick adds, and Jeff is so glad his darling boyfriend thought about that. Maybe Kurt will be less hesitant to join if someone he already knew was there as well.

Jeff has hardly completed his thought, when someone knocks on the door. Only a few Dalton boys will actually wait to enter until signalled, instead of just bursting in, so Jeff calls at him.

"You may enter, Anderson!"

From the corner of his eye he can see Kurt shrink in when he shouts, but he also notices how Kurt's eyes seek out the door.

"Good morning Jeff, Nick," he nods smilingly. "Kurt," he says softer, almost tenderly. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"We were just asking Kurt the same," Jeff hurries to ask, in case Blaine only intends on inviting Kurt. He wants to get to know the boy as well!

"Good!" Blaine beams. "Will you join us?" he asks, directed at Kurt.

"Sure," Kurt says, and Jeff thinks he sounds more resigned than eager, but is glad he agreed, at least.

The walk to the dining hall is quiet. Nick took Jeff's hand, with a pointed look, and they walked with their fingers interlaced. Kurt and Blaine ended up walking with some distance behind them. He could hear they were having a muffled conversation, and couldn't identify any words. But from the tone, Blaine seemed calm and comforting.

The breakfast is painful. Kurt isn't offering much to work with, and seems content with merely listening to the boys. Blaine keeps sending Kurt a mix of worried looks and encouraging smiles, and Nick tries to engage Jeff in their usual morning madness, but Jeff holds back, not willing to overwhelm Kurt.

At some point, their good friends Wes and David walk towards their table, but Blaine gives them a sharp look and a minuscule head shake. To Jeff's surprise, the two boys actually obey, and settle down by another table. Jeff looks curiously at Blaine, but the boy acts as if nothing happened. He wonders what he knows. He wonders if he's been talking with his roommate Wes about Kurt. He wonders how Blaine knows Kurt.

Jeff doesn't see Kurt for the rest of the day. As they're a year apart, they don't share any classes, but Jeff still expected to bump into him in the hallways. The school isn't that big. Kurt is nowhere to be seen in the dining hall during lunch either. He hasn't got the chance to go back to his, no _their_, room until after classes, Warblers' rehearsal and dinner.

He decides not to knock on the door. It seems a bit odd to do so to enter his own room, but he tries to make some noise and avoid sneaking in if Kurt is there.

Kurt _is_ there.

He's sitting curled up in his bed against the wall, head resting in his hands.

"I know, Dad," he says, and oh, he's talking on the phone. "I'm fine; stop worrying," he says, and Jeff wonders if _fine_ really is the best way to describe how he's seemed these two days.

He struggles out of his warm coat and deposits it in the wardrobe, slings his school bag onto his desk, and picks up a clean towel to give Kurt some privacy by taking a shower.

Jeff prolongs the shower as far as possible, shampoos his hair twice, towels dry painstakingly thorough, makes sure to brush each and every single tooth, and combs his hair even though he usually never bothers. But at last he can't defer any longer, and has to go back to their room.

Kurt is off of the phone, and has moved from his bed to the desk, sitting bent over some school books. He's twirling a pencil rapidly between his fingers, in what seems to be a frustrated manner.

Jeff wishes he could offer him some help, but he's only a Junior, and doesn't know their curriculum. He struggles enough with his own homework. He holds back a sigh, and sits down by his desk and picks up the English book. If only he can finish reading the next two chapters, he can ask Kurt if he'd like to watch a movie or something. But knowing his luck, he won't be able to finish his reading until he should go to bed, if even by then. And no matter how much he'd like to focus on including Kurt and invite him to join in the social activities, Jeff's school work needs a priority right now.

He raises his arms in the air, stretching his back, threatens the words to behave, and opens the book.

* * *

Burt sighs, and closes the door to the refrigerator, leaving the beer untouched. He's come to a really, really bad place if he needs one before he can call his son. He still doesn't know if he did the right thing, sending him to that posh school. Sure, they're eagerly advocating their zero tolerance anti bullying-policy stuff. But how can he trust 110 per cent that it works? How can he relax, finding confidence that the people at that school will discover if Kurt's going through rough times again? They don't know his son, they don't know how he usually is, they don't know how good he is at hiding himself, and they don't know what a great actor he is. And how can they see him, that little kid, among all those rich gentlemen-sons?

He lifts his cap to scratch his head, and shuffles back to the living room. It feels wrong not having Kurt in the house. Even though Kurt hasn't been Kurt for a while, he should still be in his home, with his own family, not two hours away. But Coach Sylvester had been really persuading, making good points. Burt Hummel was a desperate man, not knowing what he could do to help his son anymore, and willing to try almost anything. But he isn't sure for how long he's willing to try this Dalton. How fast can he expect any changes?

God, it's only been a couple of days. Two more days, and he can drive up to Westerville and take Kurt home for the weekend. It'll be good to see him with his own eyes, to hold him, talk to him face to face. He's having his therapy session on Friday as well, maybe that'll help.

Burt knows there are no quick fixes to what Kurt's going through. Logically, he acknowledges and realizes that. But a father can still hope, right?

He sits down in the old recliner, trying to get comfortable. It's the fourth day in a row that he calls Kurt, and he still has a big lump in his throat and a stomach ache. He doesn't know what he can expect to hear on the other end, he doesn't know how his son is doing, and he has no other way of checking than calling him. He can't take a couple of moments to just watch his body language and facial expressions before addressing him in a suitable matter.

But still, the fear of Kurt not picking up is worse. He needs to hear him, know he's OK. When he was at Bellefontaine, he had daily conversations with the staff, and he knew they were looking after his son, the most precious thing in his life. But now? Who can he trust? Who will double check if they haven't seen him for a while? Who is taking care of Kurt, when Kurt isn't able to do that for himself?

He'll never forget that horrible call two months ago, from a nurse with a businesslike and matter of fact-tone of voice, telling him his son was in the ER in critical condition after harming himself. Burt had been calling Kurt several times that Saturday, without luck, because he had been supposed to come to the garage and help out. Initially, Burt had been pissed on Kurt for not answering his phone, but pissed soon transformed to worried, because this wasn't like him at all. He'd texted his friends and called home, but nobody had seen Kurt. And when Burt had been about to organize a search committee within the Hudmel's, the call from the hospital came.

After that, Burt's not taken it lightly when his beloved ones don't immediately answer the phone when he calls. But the worry is always the strongest when he's about to call Kurt.

A warm hand brushes his cheek, and Carole leans down to kiss his forehead.

"It won't be easier if you postpone it, you know."

"I know," he sighs, "it's just…"

"Ignorance is bliss?" she smiles lovingly at him.

"It's just good to pretend for a couple of minutes."

She sits down on the armrest, and curls a comforting hand around his shoulder.

"But you don't pretend everything is fine; you imagine worst case scenarios. Ignorance is a curse for you. Go on, call him, you know it'll make you feel better."

"I don't understand how I got so lucky to have you…"

She smiles, runs the back of her fingers over his cheek, and gets up.

"I'll get dinner started."

And she leaves. His wife. His _wife_! Burt smiles at the thought and hurries to dial Kurt's phone number while he's still feeling this positive.

Kurt answers almost immediately, and Burt feels a ton lighter.

"Hey Dad," Kurt says softly, and he seems OK so far. Burt is still perfecting the art of checking the temperature of Kurt's mood within only a few exchanged sentences.

"Hi Son, what on earth's that noise in the background?"

"Oh God, sorry about that, I'll shut the door."

Soon after the screams and shouts are muffled, and he wouldn't have heard anything if he didn't already know it was there.

"The boys are having some race, with bets, favourites, underdogs and the entire shebang, out in the hallway."

"Okay…" Burt drawls, wondering if this is something he should report to the administration, or if this is expected behaviour among the finer prodigies of Ohio. He tries to imagine races in the hallways, and although the school was grand, he can't imagine either horses or dogs among the dormitories. Maybe they're watching something on the big TV he spotted, a live broadcast from some horse tracks? Didn't the British royals wear all those fancy hats and go to derbies? Burt's pretty sure Kurt had fawned over the outfits when they'd randomly zapped to a sport's channel one evening some years ago. It's not often Kurt tells him to leave the sports on, so Burt remembers that.

"Seems like Trevor won," Kurt announces.

"So what did he win?" Burt asks innocently.

"You're not fooling me," Kurt laughs, and it's such a nice sound. "I bet you've been imagining all kinds of crazy, right?"

"Well, I did try to picture 12 Greyhounds in your dorm building. The dogs; not the buses."

"Balloons," Kurt says.

"Huh?"

"Balloons. Or, actually, I think they may have been using… something similar, but completely different," Kurt says hesitantly, his voice trailing off.

Burt scratches the back of his head, wondering what can be both similar to and different from balloons, until he doesn't wonder anymore.

"Condoms?" he blurts out, and Kurt pipes out a yes. He can practically sense through the phone how much his son is blushing.

"Well, at least they're being safe."

Kurt is dead silent for a moment, another moment, and then laughs hard, honest.

"So tell me more about this race?"

Kurt tells him about the rules. Two persons compete against each other, and the winner goes to the next round. The goal is to get the _inflated object_ from one end of the hallway to the other, without touching it with hands or feet. The participants are not allowed to touch the floor with their hands or feet either. Most of them end up worming their way on their knees and stomachs, with their feet held up from the floor and their arms on their backs, while pushing the inflated object with their heads, until it floats off in the wrong direction and they have to chase it back. But apparently Trevor had a killer strategy for the finale, where he lay on the floor, rolling down the hallway while holding the object between his knees. His prize? A dollar from each contestant.

Burt is laughing so much tears are running down from the corner of his eyes, and he's pretty confident he doesn't have to tell the school administration about this.

"So did you enter?" Burt asks, hoping his son is participating in the social life at his new school, even though it sounds as if he's living with some crazy boys.

"No," Kurt admits, probably understanding why his father asked. "But I was watching from my doorway. The finish line is right after my room. Jeff, my roommate, remember? He bugged me into promising to watch, as he wanted his own private cheerleader."

"Oh, so you told him about your short stint with the girls at McKinley?"

"No, no, he just wanted someone screaming his name, and thought I shouldn't miss out on their monthly tradition."

"I'm sorry I disturbed you in the middle of the excitement."

"That's OK. I just needed a break from studying biology anyway, and talking with you is always better than their silly race. So tell me, did you get any special cars to the garage today?"

Finn slams the door when he all but falls in the house, and the noise prompts Burt to ask Kurt to repeat himself.

"Are you talking with Kurt?" Finn asks eagerly, hovering around Burt.

Burt looks pointedly at him, and nods.

"Let me say hello," he literally begs, folding his hands and pleading with Burt.

The older Hummel holds up one finger; the universal _hold on_-signal.

"Son, Finn wanted a few words with you, is that OK?"

Kurt hums, almost sounding excited, and Burt hands the phone over to his latest son.

"Hey dude!" he hears Finn greet Kurt, as he turns to leave.

He honours the connection the odd sort-of-brothers are developing, and heads for the kitchen to help Carole with dinner and offer them some privacy.

His wife looks up and smiles expectantly at him, and he loves her just a little bit more for caring that much about Kurt. Everybody knows the fairytales with the evil step mothers, and anybody can imagine how difficult it is to get a new family at this age. But they have adjusted surprisingly well, and are growing into one family. It obviously takes time, and there's a blatantly gaping hole where Kurt should be, but they are working. They are taking this step by step, and hopefully that'll be the only steps in this family. Stepson and stepfather seem so distant. He'll never be Christopher, hell, he doesn't intend on replacing him either. He's Burt Hummel, never gonna try to be something more or less. And this, this is his family.

"He sounds better today," he smiles at Carole. "He had French today, and kiddo always loved that stuff, still does. He's finished unpacking, so I hope it means he's settling down. Even asked to bring some more pictures back to school when he comes home for the weekend," Burt laughs happily. "I know there is shit he isn't telling me, and he was more interested in me giving him updates than the other way around. But his voice was so clear, and he didn't cry."

Carole wraps him up in her arms, gently rocking him side to side.

"I'm glad, darling, I'm so glad to hear."

She kisses him chastely on his lips.

"I think I've got an idea for some things we should send with him," she smiles, and Burt's curiosity is peaked. He loves that warm heart and sharp mind of his wife.

"When is dinner ready, mom?" Finn interrupts from the door opening. He looks less impatient than usual; he'd often hover around the kitchen, cleaning and doing tiny, harmless tasks while waiting for the food to be done.

"Ten more minutes," Carole answers after checking on the potatoes.

"OK, I'll be in my room, I need to call Puck."

Finn hurries off, and Burt looks questioningly at Carole.

"Didn't he just come home from school, where Puck is?"

"It's his best friend," Carole shrugs.

"Yeah, or at least they are this week," Burt mutters. "Teenagers, never know what'ya gonna do with'em."

Carole laughs, and hands him the plates to set the table.

"You were saying something about an idea?"

"Yes!" she beams, and explains it all to him.

* * *

Blaine smiles fondly at the sleeping figure in his bed. Just one more day, and then it's the weekend. He'll never know exactly how this first week at Dalton has been for Kurt, but he remembers clearly how his own transfer was. And it had been overwhelming. He has no doubt Kurt is exhausted, and will need some days back in his well-known and safe home, among people who care about him, and away from anything and everything daunting here at Dalton. Even though Kurt is only taking three classes, Blaine has easily noticed how much of a toll it's taking on the boy.

It's developed as somewhat of a tradition that Kurt ends up in Blaine's room after classes, and falls asleep. Today is Thursday, and all four days Blaine's been working on his homework by his desk while keeping an eye on Kurt. It also means he hasn't been able to sit in on any of Warblers' rehearsals, but the first week usually is mostly about administrative business, information unloading and soloist auditions. Blaine doesn't mind missing out on that, when the alternative is spending time with Kurt. Even a sleeping Kurt is more exhilarating than the Warblers, Blaine thinks.

Every night since he surprisingly saw Kurt in the common's room, Blaine's mind has taken him back to Bellefontaine. But unlike usual, his mind has decided to focus on all the pleasant memories, instead of the painful and soul searching conversations with Doctor Harold Whimchester.

He remembers kissing Kurt. He happily and eagerly recounts everything he can remember from the times they kissed. He remembers the scents, the tastes, the sounds, how their lips moved effortlessly together, how they fit together like puzzle pieces, he remembers their playful tongues' dancing, he remembers the sensation of Kurt's firm and solid body under him or over him, he remembers cuddling and spooning each other. He remembers how unguarded and awed Kurt's face looked after a particularly nice kiss. He remembers how every nerve cell in his body was on fire, craving more to burn even stronger until it would have engulfed him in an inferno of pleasure and passion. He remembers that hunger for more, but he also remembers feeling so overwhelmed and awed from everything Kurt gave him and let him take. And he remembers the butterflies.

Which isn't such a feat, because the butterflies are without doubt back.

Cooper had seen right through Blaine when he came back to LA, and found out about Kurt. Blaine had admitted his crush, although he then had thought _crush_ was too weak of a word to describe how he felt around the boy. He now knows he was right. After Kurt rejected him, he honestly tried to suppress his feelings; he tried to forget about Kurt in any romantic sense. He was glad they had managed to stay in touch as friends, but he knew it would only hurt if he clung to the idea of anything more than friendship. Kurt had made it clear, and Blaine doesn't believe in fairytales. He doesn't believe in miracles.

But still, by some unexplainable turn of event, Kurt shows up in his school. With Kurt's arrival, the butterflies returned, rejuvenated and well rested. His feelings for Kurt are exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time.

And now, with all misunderstandings clarified, there's a warm, tender and fragile hope growing in Blaine's chest.

When Kurt's more settled down at Dalton, Blaine will ask him out on a date again.

The though makes him all giddy, and he's smiling like a fool in love, not noticing anything of what he's reading in his history book.

An odd mix of groans and whimpers prods him to turn his head towards his bed. Kurt is stretching and curling up under the thick blanket Blaine draped over him after the boy fell asleep.

When Blaine first came to Dalton, he'd been anxious and tense, and ended up with back pains and a body that hated him. Luckily he took up boxing, and through his trainer learned a lot about taking care of himself and his body. He learned exercises to relax, stretch, unwind and ease strained muscles. He also looked into breathing exercises to calm down his body and heart rate, and more easily fall asleep.

It didn't offer miracles; it didn't erase all of his problems. But an aching body wasn't exactly helping his psyche either. So it had been worth the effort.

And he sees how Kurt walks all stiff and uptight. He doesn't relax when he sits down to eat, and although Blaine hasn't been able to observe him, he assumes Kurt isn't resting in his chair during classes either. From his dull eyes, dark circles under them, not to forget his daily mid-day naps, Blaine takes it as a confirmation Kurt's sleep isn't the best, even though he avoids the subject whenever Blaine asks.

Kurt sits up, staying wrapped up in Blaine's blanket.

"This is really nice," he says shyly, patting the wool fabric.

"You looked cold," Blaine explains, and gets up from his chair to sit next to Kurt. The boy is still rolling his neck and twisting his shoulders in various directions, looking uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Do you want a shoulder massage?" he offers carefully.

Despite how they interacted at Bellefontaine, they have hardly touched each other this week. Blaine hugged him when he first saw him, and they held hands under the blanket during the movie, but after that Blaine's kept his distance, letting Kurt set the pace.

"I've been told I'm quite decent," he adds with a shy smile.

Kurt is still, probably thinking, for a while, before he nods slowly.

"That would be nice," he agrees, shooting his spine backwards with a grimace. He looks like an upset cat.

Blaine scoots further back on his bed to rest against the wall, spreads his legs, and gestures for Kurt to sit down between them.

"It would be better if you shed a couple of layers," Blaine suggests, looking at Kurt's outfit. He's wearing a caramel coloured cardigan over a dark green shirt. It's nice to see him wearing something else than the shapeless jeans, sweatpants and hoodies he wore at Bellefontaine. His clothes are still fairly neutral and harmless, from what Kurt's told him his fashion sense in reality is bolder and more out there. But baby steps are also steps.

Wordlessly, Kurt unbuttons and sheds the cardigan. His hand rests on the top button of his shirt for a while, before he lowers his hand to his lap. He's sitting primly and poised between Blaine's legs, his own legs curled up as a pretzel, knees resting lightly against Blaine's knees.

Blaine reaches his arms towards Kurt, but stops halfway.

"Are you ready?"

Kurt nods without hesitation, and Blaine gently lowers his hands to Kurt's shoulders. He runs his hands firmly along Kurt's shoulder blades and down his back.

"You are so tense and full of muscle knots. It'll probably hurt some, so let me know if it is too much, OK?"

The other boy just hums.

"Can you rest your chin on your chest for me?" Blaine murmurs and starts working on Kurt's neck when the boy's done as asked.

It turns out Kurt is quite ticklish, and he twitches when Blaine runs his hands along Kurt's sides. Of course Blaine can't help but do it again, just to hear Kurt's sharp inhale of breath and then his thrilling and breathless laughter once more.

Blaine has to admit to himself he's enjoying this maybe a tad too much. Not that he's taking pleasure in Kurt's pain, but how can this not affect him? Being this close to a really gorgeous guy; being allowed to touch him, no matter how platonic and innocent it's meant to be; how is he expected to react neutrally? He is after all just a teenage boy trapped by rampant hormones. The muffled sounds that escape from Kurt's barely parted lips aren't helping matters either.

Blaine has never been anyone's boyfriend, he's hardly dated, and he's not spoiled with physical intimacy, even though he's a tactile cuddle monster. Kurt letting him touch him like this is a big fat vote of confidence – Kurt trusts Blaine with his body, literally – but it's also a biggie for Blaine to experience this kind of touch and closeness. Kissing at Bellefontaine did of course reach a certain level of intimacy. Giving Kurt a massage and pleasure him with his hands in the non-gutter way of thinking is an exciting experience and a new level of intimacy.

He closes his eyes, knowing Kurt can't see him, and lets his hands memorize the feel of Kurt's body under his skin. He doesn't need to see Kurt bare-chested to understand what a stunning body is hidden underneath the loose fitted clothes. His fingers and palms move across long muscles, pronounced without being buff, highlighting his strength and slenderness.

His shoulders are broader than they look, and Blaine takes it as a confirmation of how well Kurt succeeds in hiding himself. He even manages to reduce his own body size and the space he takes in a room. His back is long, muscular, solid, leading down to a narrow waist. Blaine just wants to wrap his arms around him right above his hips, resting his hands on what has to be a toned stomach. Or he wants to grab him firmly by the shoulders and pull him close, let Kurt rest against his chest, and hug him lovingly.

But he resists.

He doesn't want to screw this up, and he'll make sure to do things in the right order. He wants to lavish Kurt with attention, court him, wine and dine him, flirt and get to know him even better. Butterflies are flipping around with summersaults in his stomach; he's really looking forward to this, and he knows he'll cherish and relish the new journey he's about to begin.

"You should do this as a profession," Kurt sighs deeply, and Blaine chuckles.

"I'll take it into consideration."

He's working on Kurt's lower back, and the boy is sitting bolt straight, stretching his head and neck upwards as if he's trying to lift his body away from Blaine's hands.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes at a particularly loud whimper from Kurt, and loosens his grip on his muscles.

"No, don't," Kurt objects hesitantly. "It's… It's a good kind of pain."

Carefully, Blaine tightens his grip, and when Kurt doesn't object, he continues with the deep massage.

Kurt had been a cheerleader. And he used to be a part of the Glee club; singing and dancing. His body is a living proof of his physical past, he's still fit and toned and _gorgeous_. What saved Blaine's body from curling up in a Gordian knot was exercise. He knows Kurt avoids locker rooms and isn't into sports, but maybe he can still help him. Maybe he could teach him boxing? Blaine will have to think more about it, but he's intent on making a plan for Kurt to unwind and loosen up before he needs a daily chiropractor.

Eventually Blaine can't find any more excuses to continue the massage, and has to declare his job done.

"Thank you," Kurt purrs, stretching and yawning. He turns around between Blaine's legs to face the other boy, resting on his knees. "I'd say you're better than just decent," he smiles; an honest and bright smile, not often seen on the boy's lips.

"Thank you," Blaine mirrors, ducking his head and feeling his cheeks burn.

With his index finger, Kurt gently lifts Blaine's head up by the chin. He's looking at him, intently, not saying a word, and with a peculiar expression on his face Blaine can't decipher. That little area of skin where Kurt's fingertip is touching him is tingling and buzzing, like a mild electric shock.

Kurt runs his thumb along the bridge of his nose, bopping the tip of his nose one extra time. Blaine's eyes try to follow the movement while maintaining eye contact with Kurt, and he's holding his breath. Kurt tilts his head, and his lips are parted as if he's going to say something.

But then Kurt elegantly steps backwards out of bed; spins once on his sock clad feet, and nods towards the door.

"I have homework. Talk to you later," he rushes, gives a quick wave with his left hand by his chest, and disappears.

Blaine feels as if he just experienced a tornado.

* * *

"How has his week been?" Christy looks inquiring at the petite principal of Dalton Academy sitting across her.

"There haven't been any severe or unexpected episodes," Principal Morris reassures the psychiatrist. "The junior prefect reports back that Mr. Hummel seems shy, hesitant to approach people, avoidant and slightly skittish. But knowing Kurt's background and considering the conversations we had before his transfer, I'd say it's expected."

Christy nods; she didn't expect him to immediately be the bell of the ball either.

"His teachers tell me he's polite and punctual, but silent and keeping to himself. They haven't been able to find out how strong he is academically yet, but it's only been a week, so it's a process. I sought him out after class yesterday to see how he's doing. He seems tired, but surprisingly motivated and determined. He didn't speak much, but he's a remarkably well articulated and eloquent young man when he decides to talk."

"What did you talk about?" Christy asks curiously. She needs to know which conversation topics may make Kurt open up, if their session halts afterwards.

"Fashion," Principal Morris grins. "I complimented his satchel, and he told me he loved my scarf. We didn't talk for long, but his eyes seemed to lighten up somewhat more then than when I asked him if he was settling down and getting along with his roommate, for instance."

"Anything else I should know?"

"I found out he already knew one of the students here, so hopefully that can help him to a certain degree."

Christy peaks at her folder for Kurt, with a green post it-note from Harold tucked to the first page. He'd hurriedly given it to her after the staff meeting this morning, rushing out she should mention it to Kurt. Only two words are written on the tiny piece of paper.

"Blaine Anderson?" she reads out loud.

Principal Morris is obviously surprised.

"They were at Bellefontaine at the same time," Christy informs her, knowing the principal is fully informed about her students' backgrounds to be able to properly accommodate the education for them. Christy, however, hadn't known where Blaine went to school, as she only had secondary responsibility for him.

"Mr. Anderson passed us in the hallway, and they exchanged a quick non-verbal greeting. When I asked Mr. Hummel if he was making friends, he told me he knew Blaine from earlier."

"Thank you for taking your time to see me, Principal Morris," Christy says, and gets up from her chair to shake hands with the woman.

"Let me know if there are more Dalton can do to improve Mr. Hummel's learning environment."

"I really appreciate your courtesy. It truly is spectacular how far you're willing to stretch to help Kurt graduate. Would same time next week work for you?"

Christy has been graciously offered a smaller office for the weekly therapy sessions with Kurt. It's by far easier for her to come to Dalton than to make Kurt come to Bellefontaine, but she'd like to offer a more comfortable and relaxing environment for their conversation. She doesn't believe in looming behind an impressive desk, and having the patient sit primly on an uncomfortable chair.

Fortunately, she has plenty of time. Their session isn't scheduled until 0920, and she arrived early to have a talk with the principal first. Principal Morris had told her secretary to show Christy to her assigned room, and assist her with whatever she might need, so he's currently hunting down a water carafe and a couple of glasses. From experience she knows how dry your mouth can be when talking a lot, or from crying. And sometimes it can be better for the patient to have that glass of water to hold on to. It gives them something to focus on if their emotions are overwhelming them, and it's an excuse to keep them idle if they need a moment to find the right words.

She's just pushed the desk away to the furthest corner, when the secretary and another man arrive with two plush chairs. She positions them by a side table, and hums appreciatively at the now more suitable environment. She dismisses the men with a sincere thank you.

It's been more than a month since she saw Kurt, and he's been coping without any kind of therapy for that time, except for some phone calls. It was done deliberately. He needed to rest, to sleep, to gain some weight and focus on his physical health for a while.

Then she had been approached by a Sue Sylvester about Kurt's transfer, and Christy had contributed with her insight and expertise to help facilitate the rest of Kurt's high school career. She expects setbacks from how he was when he left Bellefontaine, but she also hopes that he feels better after spending some time in a safe environment at home, after celebrating Christmas and getting his thoughts on happier things, and then getting out of that school that haunted him. He's been at Dalton for almost a week now, and she doesn't expect him to have settled down. But she hopes he's open to talk and susceptible for her help.

There are several methods in psychiatric health care, and Christy had taken her time to study Kurt's file, observe him and get to know him before landing on her approach. It's a strategy of treatment that she herself is really comfortable with, and finds has high success rate given the right person. From how she experiences Kurt, and from what his family confirms, he's usually a bright, articulated, witty, intelligent, eloquent boy who is able to reflect, think quickly, and is a delightful combination of reason and passion.

The silent approach will probably work well with him.

It already has once, at Bellefontaine right after Blaine had been discharged, when she sat patiently in his room, not saying anything, giving him time, and waiting him out. Finally he had cracked and started asking questions, and eventually talking somewhat.

From her experience, it's so much more rewarding and healing for the patient if they are able to find their own words to describe their thoughts and feelings. It's forcing them to think and reflect, and get to know themselves much better. She doesn't like to put words in her patients' mouths, and is convinced they gain better insights in their own situation if they have to formulate the sentences themselves.

Christy is merely there to guide them, ask the right follow up-questions, offer some perspective, help them summarize and conclude and gently lead the therapy in the right direction. It can be so easy to randomly agree or disagree on statements from the therapist, and Christy is a firm believer that the patient is closer to the key to the truth than she can ever be.

She also likes to ask questions that may seem utterly irrelevant for the therapy, but helps her get to know the patient. She had talked with Kurt about the wedding preparations he was a part of before Christmas, to get to know more about his everyday life and see if it could be something that made him smile. Sometimes these arbitrary questions even offer important material to work with in the therapy; material the patients otherwise might not have thought about mentioning, because they don't see the potential or relevance.

Four rapid knocks on the door, and she glances at her wristwatch. 09:19. Good. He's punctual. For some patients, therapy is a rough experience, and they go far to avoid it. She's experienced several therapy appointments outside of Bellefontaine, where the patient simply never shows up, and she spends the better part of their hour to hunt the person down. So far Kurt shows he's interested in cooperating, he accepts the arrangements made for him, and he's willing to reach out a hand to get help.

She opens the door, and Kurt is standing next to an African-American boy, both of them wearing the school uniform.

"Thank you for walking me," he dismisses the boy with a whisper, and walks into the room without facing the boy or meeting Christy's eyes.

Christy smiles at the other boy, and as he nods and turns to walk away she closes the door. She gestures at the two chairs.

"Please, take a seat," she encourages, letting Kurt decide where he wants to sit.

She can see how he does a quick once over of the room, before choosing the chair facing the door. Control. His clothes are impeccable, his hair likewise, but his skin seems pale and dry. Walking seems like an effort, and she can see how much energy he uses in holding his body straight, while it's working against him, wanting to cave in. His eyes are dull, with dark circles not even make up can hide. Chopped lips, as if he's been chewing on them too much. His face and hands are skinny. It's difficult to decide what's under the uniform, but he doesn't seem to have gained any weight after he was released from Bellefontaine. He looks exhausted. She makes a quick note in his file to have the school nurse weigh him, to compare with their measurements from when he was admitted to the psychiatric ward.

"Was that a friend of yours?" she asks with ease in her voice, knowing perfectly well it wasn't Blaine Anderson, at least.

"David. David Thompson, the Junior prefect," Kurt answers, avoiding her question.

"This building feels like a labyrinth," she smiles. They're in the main building, with the administrational offices, and no classes are taught here, so Kurt probably hasn't spent a lot of time in this building.

"He was kind enough to offer following me to this _meeting_," Kurt clearly pronounces.

"Did he wonder what kind of meeting you were going to?"

"_Dalton boys are true gentlemen, and don't snoop in their fellow students' business_," Kurt mimics, as if he's paraphrasing some Dalton code of ethics. Which isn't that improbable.

"Does it bother you that he knows about this?" Christy asks, gesturing between them.

Kurt's hesitance is the clearest answer he can give.

"Will we be meeting up here the next time?"

She nods in confirmation, and he visible sags in relief. He won't have to rely on David or anyone else to find the location for his therapy session next week, now that he knows where this room is.

"Tell me about your week, Kurt."

"It's been… overwhelming."

He's sitting with one leg crossed over the other knee, but he isn't relaxed. He isn't resting against the back of the chair, but sitting ramrod straight. His arms are curled tightly around his waist, as if he's holding himself together, or maybe protecting himself from something, someone.

Christy keeps her facial expressions neutral, but open, looking him in the eyes even though he won't meet her gaze, waiting patiently for him to continue. Her clasped hands are resting in her lap, and she's comfortable in her chair. She can sit like this for a long time. No sound, no movement, letting Kurt forget about her presence enough to talk, remove any intimidation to allow him to open up.

His eyes are locked on a painting on the wall behind her, centred just to the side of her face. If she remembers correctly, it's an abstract oil painting in different shades of blue and white, with soft waves and shapes. It had made her think of Emma – the love of her life - looking down at her, watching over her, like an angel in the sky.

"It really is a beautiful bird, the swan," he says eventually, meeting her eyes, blinking rapidly, looking down at his shoes.

Christy just smiles softly, waiting for him to continue. She's no psychoanalyst, and not everything a patient says has to be interpreted as a figure of speech, as a metaphor, as an image to be deciphered to find a hidden message. But she still wonders what Kurt's been watching in the painting. He's an intelligent boy; she's sure art talks to him. Like she sees her lost Emma, the painting must have made Kurt think as well. Made him feel.

Kurt is watching the painting again, intently.

"I just really wish I were a swan," he sighs tiredly.

"Why is that?"

He shakes his head, points at the picture, and then at himself.

"Anything would be better than this, really," he chuckles humourlessly, and she knows he isn't answering her question.

"How are you sleeping?"

"Good," he answers quickly. Too quickly.

"How much are you sleeping?"

"I nap for an hour in the afternoons," he shrugs apologetically.

"And during night time?"

"Maybe an hour or two?"

Kurt seems hesitant to talk about this, and Christy decides to change tactics. Sometimes she wants the patient to find their own words, but sometimes she needs facts and not deeper soul searching.

"Why is it difficult to sleep?"

"I'm scared," Kurt confesses, and seems surprised by his own honesty. "My mind won't stop churning, and everything's just new and strange. I don't feel comfortable here. I… I don't feel safe."

It's the most he's said during their session.

"It's important to sleep. An exhausted body can make you sicker, both physically and mentally. Sleep and rest is part of your healing. Would you be against using sleeping pills for a while, until you've settled down and gotten used to this place?"

"They give me worse nightmares," Kurt whispers brokenly.

"I know you tried one brand at Bellefontaine with that outcome. Have you any experience with any other pills?"

He shakes his head.

"I'll write a prescription for another brand. It's not as strong, but if it gives you nightmares anyway, I want you to call me on this number instantly, OK? Or text me, if that's better."

She gives him his card from her purse.

"You can pick up your medication from the school nurse on Monday, OK?"

He nods, and enters her number into his phone.

"So, tell me, what are your plans for the weekend?" she asks, steering the conversation into a lighter direction.

She hasn't forgotten about the swan, but she needs Kurt to trust her, be more relaxed and open up. Everything in due time.


	35. Protection

**AN: This chapter grew into a monster, so I decided to split it in two somewhat shorter chapters, instead of dumping an epically long chapter with too much going on onto your poor heads. I tried to avoid a cliffhanger, but also wanted to split the chapters at a reasonable place.**

**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to _LvSammy_, who's being a faithful and enthusiastic reader.**

**_Claudiavonberckefeldt_ graciously gave me review number 200 for this story, and of course I granted her a (reasonable) wish as a reward - so in this and the next chapter you'll see a few gentle nods to German culture and heritage, as a tribute to her home country (kudos if you spot them, I go for subtleness). And if YOU leave me review number 300, I will be a sweet fairy and offer you a wish too. LOL, I'm blown away by the amount of reviews and views this story is getting, so 300 reviews is nothing but a wet dream. But let's all enjoy the dream, ey?**

**Oh, fair warning: I know some of you will want to kill me after this chapter. Please be gentle! Everything I do, is done for a reason. Please don't hate. And don't try to find me, you do not know where I live. If you have questions or reactions, feel free to share with me, and I can explain EVERYTHING.**

**Also, I've only seen a couple of episodes of season 4 so far, so PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE no spoilers!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my wicked mind.**

* * *

"How do we even know where we're going?" Puck asks while playing air guitar to Rammstein growling on the radio.

"We don't. That's why we had to head out early, in case it takes time to find him," Finn explains yet again.

"I still can't believe Schue let us ditch both Spanish and Glee for this."

"I think maybe he still feels guilty about what went down…" Finn guesses. "He told me to bring his best, anyway."

"So we're in Westerville, but how do we find the school?"

"Oh, Burt gave me directions. It's in the front pocket of my bag, can you find it?"

"Sure, dude," he says and leans to the back seat picking up Finn's bag. "Hudson, you impress me. You talk Burt into picking up his son and you talk Schue into skipping school. You, my man, will go far!"

Finn chuckles and shakes his head.

"I told Burt I could have Kurt back in Lima before he's even done at the garage. That kind of sealed the deal."

"You're a good guy. And thanks for getting me out of Spanish. Yuck," Puck grins, and headbangs to the music.

"I just need to see him," Finn says solemnly, and Puck stops still.

"What's wrong?"

"I talked with him on the phone on Wednesday. He's…" Finn sighs. "He just didn't sound like himself, and I need to see if he's safe at this new school of his."

"What do you mean?" Puck says seriously, and looks worried at him.

"He wanted to talk about the Titans. And he laughed at things he usually doesn't laugh at. Like he was trying too hard or faking it. I don't know. I worry, you know. I haven't seen him in almost a week. Anything can have happened."

"Don't you think the teachers would have called Burt if anything was wrong?"

"Yeah, like they did at McKinley?" Finn scoffs.

"But this school is supposed to be better. Don't they have this no messing around with the kids-rule?"

"Yeah… I wonder how they make it work," Finn muses.

"Remember those girls who'd done time in juvie we met for Sectionals?" Puck asks seriously.

Finn nods to show he remembers.

"They have a bunch of surveillance cameras, metal detectors, locked doors and all kinds of shit in their school."

"I can't imagine Kurt accept being frisked every morning."

"I bet he'd like a body cavity search," Puck grins.

"Dude. Not cool," Finn scolds.

"You have to admit it was kind of funny?" Puck insists.

"Not when it's my brother," Finn says solemnly, and swears. "Didn't that sign say Dalton Academy? We have to turn."

Puck glances at the notes jotted down from Burt to guide them.

"Yup, take a right just after that stone church behind us."

"Thanks for being an outstanding map reader," Finn snorts.

"Dude. You sound like your brother!"

Finn grins, and turns at the next gas station.

* * *

The boys have locked the car, and are standing in front of the main building, looking at it with awe.

"So…"

"So…"

"How are we gonna find him in here?"

"I was kind of hoping I'd just know where he is, like I could read his mind or just ask him through our connection."

"You know that's a bond supposed to be between _twins_, right?" Puck grins at him. "And Kurt's a bro and all, but you're not related by blood."

"Maybe we could ask someone, the headmaster or something?"

"Or we could call him," Puck suggests, smacking Finn in the back of his head.

Finn swats away his hand and hits call on his phone.

He walks away from Puck, so Puck uses the opportunity to have a closer look on their surroundings. The building looks so old he can hardly imagine any electricity or modern gadgets in there. It looks like one of those castles from the mediaeval war movies. And this is an all boys school? _Gay Braveheart_, Puck snickers, and peaks around the corner of the stone castle to see more buildings.

"Kurt's just out of his last class. He told us to meet him between the next buildings," Finn explains.

They walk quickly passed the main building, and towards their goal. Two buildings looking similar to the first are faced against each other, and a bridge with glass ceiling and walls is connecting them. Between the buildings is a wide snow-covered area, and a massive stone fountain centred on it, with benches and faded rose bushes spread along the paths criss-crossing the lawn in an X-pattern.

Puck picks up his phone and checks something on the screen.

"What?" Finn asks curiously.

"Just making sure we're still in 2012," he grins. "Look at this place! Kurt's gotta love being here."

He leans nonchalantly against the big fountain. A rearing dragon is surrounded by what looks like tiny elves, or something. If the water connection was on, it would flow out of the dragon's mouth and the jars the elves are holding. He shakes his head in amusement, and takes in rest of the surroundings. Finn is standing close to him, twisting the palm of his foot in the snow, arms crossed over his chest, and looking quickly in every direction at once as if he's afraid he'll miss Kurt.

Puck's much cooler, so he takes his time to actually see. There are only boys crossing the area, which of course is a bummer, he'd totally get a kick out of girls in school uniforms. But grey trousers, navy blazers and testosterone just don't do it for him. It's freezingly cold, and most boys are bundled up in thick coats, hats and scarves. They seem to be disappearing in two particular directions. Most of them are headed in the direction of the parking lot, where Finn's car is. But some are walking in the opposite direction, passing all of the buildings Puck is able to see. He's curious, to say the least.

Every single boy he spots is wearing the same trousers and some kind of warm jacket or coat on top. Not one can be singled out as a jock, with the letter jackets, sport uniform, bags with team slogans, or any of the things he usually wears at McKinley. Don't they do sports in this school? Or maybe they work out in the blazers? Or, shit, sure, this school gotta be so posh they only to the fancy sports, like horse racing or show jumping, or chess, or maybe even discus throwing only wearing a loin cloth like he saw on that Greek statue in his history book.

Puck can't help but giggle, but then gets a grip again. He's scanning the area to find threats for Kurt, not to indulge in said boy's wet dreams.

"Hey boys," a whispered voice greets them, and Puck spins around. Finn's already grabbed the boy to hug him, but lets go when Kurt mutters something about suffocation. Puck steps up and wraps the slender boy in his arms.

"Good to see you, dude," he grins, and notices how stiff and tense Kurt is in his embrace. He lets go, pretends like nothing, and talks instead.

"Gonna give us a tour of your shack?"

"Sure," Kurt shrugs, looking at Finn.

"Yeah, you have to show us everything, bro," Finn agrees.

So Kurt leads the way to the building on the left. Puck and Finn flank him, like some bodyguard service, and Kurt all but shrinks between them. He points out some rooms to them, speaking in a muffled voice, and they have to strain their ears to hear him.

Puck hasn't got Kurt's brain and vocabulary, but if he did he's sure he'd be able to paint quite poetic descriptions of the swanky hallways and rooms Kurt are showing them. Everything looks so posh and fancy, with colourful wallpaper, decorative borders, tiled floors, oil paintings of old men framed in gold, chandeliers, statues, shiny wood banisters, glass paintings and all kinds of special shit. It kind of reminds him of the mansions in _Falcon Crest_ and _Dynasty_ his mom watched reruns of when Puck was a kid. The villas in Lima where he cleans pools are rich, but they look like old hostels compared to this.

"I bet you love all of this," Puck gushes, gesturing around him.

"I guess it has its charm," Kurt shrugs, and Puck double takes – Kurt really has lost his marbles!

Everything looks luxuriously old, like a king built it, but it's been really well kept. It doesn't look like a school at all. There's not a surface where Puck would dare to doodle or carve anything with his marker or pocket knife. Everything's just too darn _pretty_, and he wonders were the students go to let out their needs for mischief. Not even the surfaces of the desks or chairs seem to have been touched.

"Where are the lockers?" Puck asks, suddenly realizing he hasn't seen any yet.

"In the basement," Kurt sighs. He looks at them, and Puck just nods. He sure as hell wants to see as much as possible of this school. He shares a look with Finn, and knows they're on the same page.

Kurt leads them downstairs, and it's obvious the opulence and overflow of money didn't reach this floor, but it's still a far cry from the dungeon-esque images Puck got on his retina. It's open, light and lit, with white concrete walls, white and black chess-patterned tiled floors, and big rooms without any narrow corridors or alcoves where bullies can wait to locker slam you, trip you or in other ways be assholes.

The lockers are marked with tiny brass signs to indicate which number it is, but otherwise they have clean slates. Puck is amazed. All the terror and vandalism some of the guys from McKinley could inflict to this place.

Kurt unlocks his designated locker at Finn's encouragement, and it isn't really anything there.

"I keep my books in my room for homework. And I really don't even have that many books with the few classes I take," he explains as if he needs to apologize for anything he does.

Except for a white shirt still in its plastic wrapping, a couple of pair of socks and a toilet bag, there's nothing there.

"We'll have to find some stuff so you can decorate the door. Or don't they do that here?" Puck asks.

Kurt smiles timidly, but doesn't say anything.

"Are you hungry? You have to be hungry," Finn rambles, eyeing the wending machines in the middle of the room. "It's still a couple of hours until dinner, you should eat," he insists, having felt how thin Kurt was under his clothes.

"I don't have any change on me," Kurt trails off.

"Pssh, as if I can't buy my brother a snack. Is raspberry yoghurt fine, or would you rather have a granola bar?"

"Really, Finn, it's OK."

"Which is it?" Finn insists, feeding the machine with his coins.

"Fine," Kurt huffs. "And I prefer the cherry yoghurt."

"Was that so difficult?" Finn grins, and punches the right buttons. He then orders a snickers bar for himself.

"So where does this corridor lead?" Puck asks, noticing the basement continues far, far away.

"Umm, it's an underground tunnel to the other building where we have classes."

"Cool," Puck grins, for a brief moment imagining torches, skeletons, armour suits and rats. He is, of course, sadly mistaken.

They then bug Kurt into showing them his room, which isn't all that difficult, as he needs to pack a bag before they can return to Lima.

Puck's realized that everyone looks the same in this school, and it'll be hard to pinpoint who can constitute a threat for Kurt. And he shouldn't be surprised. This is a gentlemen's school. And he knows there are gentleman-thieves. Of course there have to be gentleman-bullies as well. So he walks close to Kurt, and glares at most of the boys they pass, just in case. By metaphorically pissing on Kurt the Pole, he hopes to scare off those considering trying anything.

* * *

Apparently, Kurt is sharing room with someone, but it looks nothing like their basement back in Lima. This seems to have more space for each, Finn muses, trying to take in as much as possible of the square room. Kurt gave them a brief tour – walk in-closet, bathroom, his bed, the other dude's bed, his desk, other dude's desk.

Puck is lounging in Kurt's bed, ignoring the owner's glares. Finn is hanging awkwardly in the room, not quite sure what to do. He asked if Kurt wanted his help, but Kurt declined, and is busy in the wardrobe packing his suitcase. So Finn is looking at the shelves overhead Kurt's desk, rummaging through the stuff. There are mostly school books, note books and binders. The scrap book they gave him is there, and Finn is glad to see it. A couple of novels and DVDs are stacked by the end, but otherwise there's nothing of Kurt's personal belongings. There isn't much of Kurt's _personality_ in the room.

The boy dives into the bathroom with a flourish and a promise to be ready as soon as he's out of uniform, has styled his hair and packed the toiletries.

Finn decides to sit down on the couch. A couple of magazines and books are splayed on the coffee table. He doesn't recognize most of them, and they don't seem to be about sports, but _The Far_ Side he does recognize, so he gets comfortable in the couch with it. He knows his brother, and his "soon's" tend to be much longer than Finn's own "soon's".

"Oh, hi," a voice chimes, interrupting Finn in his reading.

"Umm, hi," Finn says awkwardly, wishing Kurt's "soon" would be done by now.

"You're the dude on the roomie's picture on the nightstand," Puck grins, and gets up from Kurt's bed. Finn is kind of relieved that Puck never feels awkward or let anything falter him.

"Puck," he says, reaching out a fist.

"Nick," the other boy smiles slyly, bumping Puck's fist. "Is Kurt a shapeshifter during weekends, or is there another reason for you being here?"

"I'm Finn; his brother," Finn rushes out. "We're here to take him home for the weekend."

Nick tilts his head, watching Finn intently, but he doesn't comment on it.

"Have you seen Jeff?" he finally asks.

"And who would that be?" Puck asks not unkindly.

"The roommate," Nick answers calmly, and scrolls through his phone. "This one," he adds and shows them a picture.

Finn and Puck shake their heads.

"We haven't really met anybody," Finn admits apologetically.

Nick nods in understanding, and plops down in Jeff's bed.

"I'm sorry guys, but I'm d…" Kurt almost skips out of the bathroom, but freezes when he sees the guest.

"Hi Nick," Kurt smiles kindly, but Finn can see some hesitance in his eyes, and he walks stiffer, as if he's afraid to be in the way.

The door bursts open and startles Kurt so much he trips and falls forward. Finn catches him in his arms, and doesn't let go of him immediately. Two boys, in the same uniform as Kurt wore before he changed, step in. Finn is surprised to realize he recognizes both. One is the blonde boy Nick showed them a picture of, but the other he can't place. There's just something familiar with him. Finn peaks over at Puck, and he too is trying to figure out the shorter boy.

The blonde nods with a big smile at Kurt, before plopping down in bed next to Nick. The dark haired boy slips his hand into Jeff's, and they smile softly at each other. Huh, Finn thinks, seems like Kurt isn't the only gay guy in _this_ school.

"Are you leaving already?" the shorter boy asks Kurt, and Finn thinks he almost looks sad.

"Yes," Kurt exhales, extracting himself from Finn. "These two surprised me by coming early."

"Oh, this is your brother, isn't it?" the boy shakes his head quickly, smiles politely, and extends a hand to Finn.

"Finn; Blaine, Blaine; Finn," Kurt nods. "And this is Puck," Kurt introduces, as if the boy already knows who they are. It confuses Finn, and he feels as if he should remember this boy. Whatever, if the dude knows Kurt well enough to recognize them he's probably a good friend here at Dalton, and Finn most certainly wants Kurt to have friends. Everything's cool. But Finn will ask Puck later if he can place the short dude.

"You ready to leave, or do you have more shit to pack?" Puck grins, slapping Kurt on the back so hard he almost stumbles.

Kurt glares at him, but takes out his coat and laces the boots.

"You may take my luggage," Kurt says haughtily, looking at Puck down his nose.

Puck just snickers, and lifts the suitcase as easy as if it was filled with cotton candy. Kurt waves a timid goodbye to the two boys in the bed. For Blaine, he offers a quick one armed hug. Finn waves awkwardly at all three of them, and then they leave; next stop Lima.

* * *

Burt sighs, completely at lack of words.

"You returned safely," Carole murmurs, curling up next to him in bed and resting her head on his chest.

They had refused Finn to drive his brother back on a school night, and Burt had spent the four hours in the car. Carole had been asleep when he came home.

"Sorry I woke you up," he apologizes.

"You know I can't sleep properly until you're with me."

"I love you," Burt exhales.

"I love you too. Now tell me what's on your mind."

"I just wonder if we're doing the right thing, with this school."

"You did get to talk a lot with him one on one this weekend."

"Yeah, it wasn't as much of communication as it was me preaching, but it was good to see him. He looks different, worse than he sounds on the phone. I don't know if he's suppressing it or hiding it for me, but he struggles."

"You have to give him time; you can't expect him to be adjusted already."

"But how much time is enough?"

"I can't tell you that. We'll just have to see if he gets worse, if he stagnates, or if he even gets better. He did ask for permission to bring more pictures and personal belongings to school, I take that as a good sign."

"And I'm so glad you thought about framing an enlargement of one of the family portraits from the wedding. I haven't had time to think about those pictures yet."

"We don't have any other proper pictures of all four of us, and I hoped he'd appreciate it."

"He did," Burt reassures her, patting her shoulder.

"I know; I saw. And he also enjoyed the cookies we made earlier. Nobody refuses to befriend the guy with all the tasty cookies," Carole grins wickedly.

"So we're bribing the boys to spend time with our son?"

"No, they'll want to be his friend because Kurt is amazing. The cookies will be the ice breaker."

"Have I told you lately I love you?"

* * *

Monday Kurt picks up the medication Christy prescribed him, and the school nurse tells him to step on the scale. He then spends his free hour and lunch reading the leaflet thoroughly to make sure he'll use the sleeping pills correctly and catch any potential side effects. When he's memorized the most important information, he hides the tiny box at the bottom of his toilet bag among his other bottles, cans, jars and boxes.

As usual, Blaine texts him when he's back in his room, and they spend the time together until dinner. Kurt has fallen asleep in Blaine's bed most afternoons, but today he needs to make sure he asks him something while they're alone.

They're watching old episodes of _Mythbusters_ on Blaine's laptop, when Kurt finally musters the courage to speak up.

"I told you Carole and Burt got married on January 1st, right?"

Blaine hums and lowers the volume on his computer.

"They're going on a belated honeymoon, driving up to Chicago for a long weekend."

"That's nice," Blaine murmurs, listening as if he's giving him his full attention.

"Umm, so my brother is having a party this Saturday. It'll just be New Directions. I'm really not that eager to go, but someone should keep an eye on things and make sure the house still stands without anyone – namely the parents – knowing."

"Kurt, you're rambling."

"Yeah," he exhales. "I kind of just wondered if you'd like to go with me. It's no big deal; I'm just putting it out there, on the table, as it is. Some random party, in my house. Right." Kurt is wringing his hands and studying his knee caps, avoiding Blaine's face.

Blaine beams. He's really flattered by Kurt's invitation. He wants to get to know the boy better, and meeting his friends is a step in that direction. Now that Kurt's at Dalton, he's met Blaine's closest friends. He acknowledges that Kurt still has far to go, but he really hopes he'll eventually fit in as well as Blaine's dreaming of. He loves his friends, and he'd like to date someone who gets along with them. And he'd like to get along with his friends too. So yeah, Blaine would like to go with Kurt to his brother's party.

"Kurt?" He gets the worried boy's attention. "I'd love to meet your friends."

"Oh? OK, yes, fine, good." Kurt takes a deep breath. "I promised Finn to come early on Saturday to help him set up things, but if you want to drive on your own and come for the party, or you can change your mind and stay here, or you don't have to stay here-here as in here at Dalton, you can go wherever, I'm not…"

Blaine promptly puts a finger on Kurt's lips, effectively making the boy stop his rambling.

"We'll go in one car, and I'll of course help clean up on Sunday."

"You sure?" the boy mumbles under Blaine's finger.

Kurt looks so small and uncertain.

"Positive," Blaine smiles, and he has an urge to replace his finger with his lips. But he doesn't. He's not sure what they are doing, so he's decided to step carefully, watching Kurt's moves and let him take part in leading their strange dance. Blaine knows where he wants this to end, but there's no rush. Not yet.

* * *

Wes and David have been bugging Blaine about coming back to Warblers' rehearsals. He hasn't been there since some time in October; his stay at Bellefontaine and then catching up for his exams didn't leave any room for it.

"I don't understand why you're so eager to have me there. I'm not even a Warbler."

"You're an honorary Warbler," Wes corrects him. "You have good insight in what sounds good, you offer needed criticism – and it wouldn't kill you to join in on a song now and then. We know how much you love to sing."

"We respect that you don't feel ready to perform publicly, and thus refrain from auditioning. But your smile when you let go with us is so pretty," David beams.

"David, your gay is showing," Wes warns him.

"We're both gay for Blaine," David grins, resting in Wes' bed with his upper body slouched towards the floor.

"Guys…" Blaine interjects, blushing. He knows very well how straight and taken the boys are, but attention like that still gets to him. Even though he has purely platonic feelings for the boys. At least now; he may have had a slight, distant crush on first one and then the other when he originally came to Dalton, surrounded by boys in handsome blazers. Those two had been so kind to him, adopting him to their social circle immediately. Who wouldn't crush in that situation? But like the flu, it had lasted for approximately 96 hours.

"I'll think about it, OK?"

The boys high five and leave; they have a Council meeting before rehearsals to attend.

* * *

With the sleeping pills, Kurt's need for an afternoon nap has lessened, and when Blaine explains to him how he'd like to join the Warblers the day after, on Thursday, Kurt gives him an honest smile and says Blaine should of course spend time with his friends instead of baby sitting him. Blaine of course objects, explaining how Kurt is his friend. The boy snorts and tells him to calm down, he was only joking, but Blaine isn't convinced.

Blaine sneaks in to sit in the back of the room, and they've already begun working on something. Considering the serious expression on Wes' face, this could be Regionals material. He bops his head to the beat, smiling at the playfulness the boys are clearly showing, and his foot is tapping rhythmically, leg crossed over his knee.

Rehearsal is done quicker than Blaine would have guessed – he's missed spending time with these boys, and time flies when you're having fun. He hangs back to catch up with Wes and David as the other Warblers trickle out of the room.

"You must be Blaine," a smooth voice startles him.

He turns around to see someone behind him; someone he hasn't seen before. It's a tall, thin boy with brown hair in a polished do. He looks cute enough, but there's something about him that seems off to Blaine.

"I guess I must."

The other boy grins and steps closer. Automatically, Blaine takes two steps backwards; he's wary of his personal space and doesn't like strangers too close to him. Increasing his distance to this boy wasn't the wisest thing to do, though, as it gives him the opportunity to openly check Blaine out. He blushes, ducks his head, and feels uncomfortable.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asks, talking more to the guy's chest than face.

"Sebastian Smythe," the other boy introduces himself, reaching out a hand. Blaine takes it firmly, but quickly. "And you are kind of a legend within the Warblers – a living legend, that is. I was intrigued by the way the guys talk about you, and thought I had to check if you're worth the hype. Apparently you are," Sebastian winks.

"I'm sorry," Blaine splutters, "I'm afraid I don't recognize you."

"I'm new at Dalton," the boy shrugs.

"Oh… Are you a freshman?" Blaine asks, thinking that explains why he hasn't seen him at school or with the Warblers before.

"Do I _look_ like a freshman?" The boy doesn't sound offended, but rather amused.

"Umm, no, not really," Blaine admits, embarrassed.

"Come have coffee with me. It's always nice to meet new… _friends_," the boy smirks.

Blaine is brought up to be polite, and he hasn't any good excuse to say no. Besides, he could use a liquid pick-me-up, so he just nods and gestures for Sebastian to lead the way. He turns around to wave goodbye to Wes and David, but they've already left.

They get coffee in the dining hall, which is open even though dinner isn't served for another half an hour. Sebastian leads way to a secluded table in a corner behind a big plant. It makes Blaine feel uncomfortable and break out in light sweat.

"I should have been a junior," Sebastian shrugs, looking bored and annoyed at the same time. And Blaine gets an explanation for why he hasn't seen the boy in any of his classes.

"I spent the last three semesters in Paris," Sebastian smirks, and Blaine's eyebrows fly to the roof. Wow, Paris? Kurt will love talking with this guy. "But for reasons the time spent by the French school bench isn't worth shit here, so I'm redoing my sophomore year."

"Reasons?"

"Reasons," he states calmly, not opening up for more questions. "Anyway, I did my freshman year here, remember how much fun the Warblers were, and decided to join again. Which leads me to ask: Why aren't you a member?" Sebastian leans back in the chair, tilting his head and watching Blaine intently.

Blaine does a quick calculation in his head. When Sebastian first attended Dalton, Blaine was home healing from the Sadie Hawkins dance. When Blaine came to Dalton to re-do his sophomore year, Sebastian went to Paris. But now their roads are crossing. Blaine does some more quick math, and has to suppress a smile. If Sebastian supposedly could have been a Junior, it means he thinks he's the same age as Blaine. But Blaine should have been a Senior, so he's in fact the same age as Kurt. And faith has made it so they'll be able to graduate together, despite of unfair obstacles.

Oh, Sebastian asked him something.

"I'm not much of a performer," Blaine shrugs.

"Now that's a lie, considering the praise the boys are giving you," Sebastian teases and winks.

"I… I enjoy having fun with the boys. But I can't perform with them…" Blaine says timidly, not comfortable talking about this with this stranger.

"Why?" the other boy asks eagerly, intensely, leaning on his elbows on the table.

Blaine all but jolts back, the legs of the chair scraping against the ceramic tiles.

"Umm…"

Then Blaine turns to a new leaf, and decides to be brave. It's not his fault he's sick, and he knows there are a lot of shame connected to psychiatric health. So maybe he should just be honest about it with Sebastian? Everybody else among the Warblers knows, although they don't have any details like Wes and David do. Maybe being even more open about it will lead to at least one person's education? Courage…

He folds his hands around the coffee mug, to keep them busy and have something to focus on.

"I struggle with social anxiety, and is afraid to perform in public," Blaine says solemnly, tensing and waiting for Sebastian's reaction.

The other boy is silent for a moment, still looking intently at him.

"I guess I'll just have to warm you up to the idea, then," he finally says.

Blaine inwardly sighs with relief. He's not interested in being convinced or talked into joining, but it's still a good response. He takes a large sip of the coffee he's cradling.

"You know, that whole bashful innocent school boy-image is really doing things for me. Cute," he winks. "And if I may add – you're a real sex on a stick," he drawls, licking his lips slowly.

The coffee almost lands in Sebastian's face when Blaine chokes and spits it all out.

"There is funnier mess we could make, but I'll get you some napkins for now," Sebastian grins and does as he said.

* * *

Kurt and Blaine leave Dalton right after breakfast on Saturday, and it's a comfortable two hours drive in Blaine's car. Kurt's car is still back home; Burt won't allow him to drive yet, and Kurt tells Blaine he respects his father's wish. Their conversation is easy, and Kurt seems more relaxed than he does in school.

"I'm glad you're coming with me," he smiles, and Blaine returns the smile.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Liar," Kurt scolds.

"What?"

"I know leaving the sanctity of Dalton scares you. I know you think new social settings are scary. I know you're worried about giving a good impression. So I'm glad and honoured you're coming with me."

"I'm trying to look forward to it?" Blaine gives him a crocked smile, and Kurt laughs.

"I wish I could promise you it won't be bad, but… No, my friends are crazy."

"So are mine," Blaine winks.

Kurt is instantly ambushed by his step-brother when they enter the house in Lima, and Blaine watches with amusement how Kurt is body tackled to the ground.

"Get. Off. Of. ME!" Kurt yells through his teeth, but there's no real venom in his voice.

Finn helps him back on his feet, and it's as if he didn't notice Kurt's company until that moment.

"I've seen you before," he says almost accusingly, and Kurt rolls his eyes, hitting Finn on the shoulder. Blaine tries to hide a smile.

"Finn, meet my friend Blaine from Dalton. Blaine, this is my step-brother Finn."

"But I've seen you before," Finn insists while shaking Blaine's hand.

"Yes, at Dalton with Puck last week."

"But I recognized him, like that douche view-moment."

"Do you perhaps mean you were having a déjà vu-moment?"

"Yeah…" Finn laughs shyly, scuffing his foot on the carpet, while Kurt berates him on his lack of class and vocabulary.

"Maybe you remember me from Bellefontaine," Blaine smoothly interjects when Kurt needs to catch his breath.

"Dude, that's spot on!" Finn grins. "So you understand Kurt and stuff, that's awesome," Finn beams, and decides to hug both of them.

Blaine instantly falls in love with the house, and because of the party preparations he's granted access to most of it by helping with various tasks. It looks homey and lived in, and the worn down furniture Kurt apologizes for proves to Blaine that this family enjoys spending time together.

They spend the next hours preparing the party. Kurt stores away the most fragile items in the living room, hiding it in the master bedroom and locking the door. Finn vacuums the floor and rigs the surround system and karaoke machine Rachel brought over earlier. Blaine is given the task of slicing fruit and vegetables. Eventually they all end up in the kitchen. Finn mixes the punch with ingredients provided by Puck, and stores beer and wine coolers in the snow right by the veranda door. Kurt mixes up a big batch of cookies and Blaine whips up different dips.

"OK, the guys will be here in an hour, so it's about time to get cleaned and dressed," Kurt finally announces. "Blaine, let's take your bag downstairs and set you up for the night."

He shows the way to the basement.

"I'm sorry we don't have a proper guest room," he says, gesturing around in the big room. "This was the first home mom and dad bought. They wanted to find something better and bigger when their economy was more solid, but that never happened, so…"

Kurt sniffs, and turns away from Blaine, running a finger across the top of his vanity. In the reflection from the mirror Blaine can see him pinch the bridge of his nose and blinking rapidly. Blaine closes the distance between them, and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"Dad didn't have the heart to sell the house, and the two of us never needed any more space. Until now. Anyway, that's why we don't have a guest room, and why you'll have to sleep like this."

"Not a problem, Kurt. It'll be like one of the impromptu sleepovers at Dalton, where you'll find yourself asleep at the oddest places."

"What's the weirdest place you've fallen asleep?"

"I once woke up curled up in an empty hamper."

"Ouch, that had to hurt?"

Blaine nods vigorously.

"So inflatable mattress? Luxury for me."

Kurt offers Blaine the bathroom, and grabs his own clothes and toiletries to get ready upstairs. Blaine smiles and takes his bag to the shower. He's nervous, but some of the butterflies in his stomach are really positive too. He actually has some hopes for this evening, and he's looking forward to watch Kurt interact with his friends.

* * *

Blaine finally decides his hair looks decent, and watches the reflection of him in red trousers, a white shirt and black chest-clutching vest. He adds a grey bowtie, but leaves the fedora. He doesn't know Kurt's friends, he doesn't know how they dress, and he wants to give a nice first impression – and the hat may be over the top.

Taking a deep breath and adjusting the tie in front of the mirror, he decides this will have to work, and jogs up the stairs to be a polite guest and offer his help. Not that he knows what else could be needed done; Kurt and Finn seem to be in control of this.

He walks in to the living room, immediately spots Kurt, and completely looses his breath.

"Kurt…" he exhales.

"Too much?" he asks worriedly, biting his lower lip and tugging at his clothes.

Kurt is wearing a short sleeved button up, and the fabric clings to his obviously toned body. The fabric looks almost transparent, but it hides everything. It looks so soft Blaine just wants to snuggle into it. If it wouldn't ruin Kurt's impeccable outfit, of course. The shirt is coloured in all variations of black. It shimmers between metallic black, purple black, deep green black, navy black. Blaine can't pinpoint the colour, but it shines and tricks his eyes.

He has accessorised with two gorgeous cuffs around his wrists; wide leather with carvings of some sort and laces.

And below on his body… Blaine would whistle if it wasn't such a cliché. Steel grey low slung jeans clinging to Kurt as if they were painted on. Claw marks from a beast has left tears across both thighs, but instead of Kurt's skin he can see black fabric. Blaine wants to poke at it, rip it open; get to touch his skin. He wants to peak at Kurt's chest through the straining buttons of the tight shirt. And he wants to gently untie the wrist cuffs, and tenderly kiss Kurt's scars. Because he's beautiful. All of him is.

"You look amazing!" he gushes, and Kurt's hesitant eyes light up from the praise.

"Really?"

"Really. I knew you had great fashion sense, but this exceeds anything I could imagine."

Kurt blushes, twirling on his place, and preening at the praise.

"Carole bought it all for me, actually."

"Well, let me congratulate you with an awesome step-mother. Or will you show up in a burlap bag come midnight?"

"These are my shoes for the evening," Kurt grins, shaking one of his boot clad feet in Blaine's direction, "so keep your eyes open for it, if you need to pair it."

Blaine is about to answer, but is interrupted by the door bell.

"Ready to meet my friends?" Kurt asks, smiling comfortingly.

Blaine swallows heavily. Here goes nothing.

* * *

**Song mentioned:**

Rammstein – _Du Hast_


	36. Party Surprises

**AN: So, here you have the second half. I could give you a mean cliffhanger here, but I don't like doing that, so it became a lenghty chapter instead - I hope you can forgive me for that!**

**I've realized - after writing 36 chapters - that my skin may be elephant thick, and maybe I should have added some warnings here and there in this story. So, this is a not so subtle reminder that the rating for this story is M - and it is so for several reasons. **

**The idea for the song Blaine sings in this chapter is inspired by and kindly borrowed from EvvieJo's _The Inevitable Tends to Happen_. Thank you for letting me mug your mind! **

**As I said for my last chapter; Claudiavonberckefeldt graciously gave me review number 200 for this story, and of course I granted her a (reasonable) wish as a reward - so even in this chapter you'll see a few gentle nods to German culture and heritage, as a tribute to her home country (kudos if you spot them, I go for subtleness).**

**I've only seen a couple of episodes of season 4 so far, so PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE no spoilers!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

Puck is the first to arrive the party, with a girl Blaine wouldn't have pegged as his type, but he's not one to judge who other people love and desire; he's had enough of that directed at himself.

Puck pats him roughly on the back.

"You're the roommate, right?" Puck asks, nodding in Kurt's direction, who's headed for the kitchen with the bags of supplies Puck's brought, along with the girl.

"We go to the same school, yes, but Kurt boards with Jeff, the blonde guy," Blaine politely explains.

"Oh, yeah, that gay dude," Puck grins. "Good, then they can talk about the same shit together and all that. So what do you do?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Blaine says charmingly, unconsciously slipping into that composed, articulated, eloquent gentleman he's brought up to be, and who comes out as his go-to modus operandi whenever he feels uncomfortable.

"What's your thing when you're not in school? I've seen you somewhere before, but I don't know where. Do you sing in Glee club? Play football? Have we partied together before? Do I know your brother, or have I fucked your sister? Do your parents have a pool?"

Blaine blinks and smiles disarmingly, feeling close to overwhelmed. He laughs awkwardly, disarmingly.

"No, I don't sing. I don't play football, but I do some boxing. I can't remember partying with you," Blaine says, knowing he never goes to any parties unless they are hosted by and limited to his school friends. "I doubt you know my brother. I don't have a sister, but my parents have two pools."

"So I've cleaned your pools then?"

"I hardly think so," Blaine keeps his smile plastered on, and thinks about the housekeeping staff in Columbus and Los Angeles, maintaining both homes to proper standards no matter where the Anderson's are living at the moment.

"So where have I seen you earlier?" Puck keeps pushing, squinting at him as if it'll help him remember.

"You… You visited him, earlier," he lowers his voice, "in Bellefontaine. I saw you there, I don't know if that could be it."

Puck's face falls for a moment, but he quickly gathers his wits.

"I knew I never forget a face. We all have shit to carry. I've done time in juvie, and I'm not proud to admit it, but I'm more than just that. And the Glee club helps me grow and become a better person," he pitches his voice highly for the last sentence, clearly paraphrasing someone Blaine doesn't know.

"Puckerman, let the fresh meat remain unharmed," the girl Puck arrived with interjects. "Forgive Caveman here for his lack of manners," she says directed to Blaine. "I haven't completely house trained him yet. I'm Lauren Zizes, and you're One Fine Ass," she grins wickedly, and Blaine feels slightly threatened.

"Hey!" Puck objects. "No flirting with other guys; I'm the one who gave you seven minutes in heaven."

"Yeah, about that? Not so heavenly," Lauren drawls, but winks teasingly at Puck.

She bumps her fist against Blaine's shoulder so hard he has to side step to regain his balance.

"Stay around and make my night enjoyable!" she says as she walks off towards the stereo equipment, Puck following her like an obedient puppy.

Blaine remains bewildered on the middle of the floor, trying to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry I just left you like that, but I had to secure the kitchen from the disaster Finn would inflict on it," Kurt rushes from next to him, and Blaine can feel his tense shoulders relax somewhat. "Do you want me to introduce you to my friends?" he asks, and Blaine realizes more people have arrived while he talked with Puck and Lauren.

"Sure; I'd love to," he says, deciding it's better to get it done with.

Blaine really tries to remember all the names, he does, and he knows it's an important skill to master for his future career and expected networking. But it's been some time since he's needed that particular talent, and he frantically makes up rhymes and rules on the go to help him remember the names. He doesn't want to risk offending Kurt's friends by mixing up their names, or even forgetting them.

A brunette comes skipping up to them, grinning a little maniacally.

"Kurt! It's so good to see you again!" She smothers him in a tight hug, squealing. "You have to tell me everything about Dalton," she demands as soon as she lets go of him.

"There's not much to tell, I really haven't been there for long yet," Kurt says reluctantly.

Rachel's face falters, and she looks disappointed.

"But it's been two weeks! I hoped you by now had been to your classes, jointed the Glee club, checked out other clubs, made some friends…"

"Rachel, meet my friend Blaine," Kurt swiftly interjects, placing his hand on Blaine's shoulder to include him in their conversation.

Rachel beams, even more so when Blaine extends a hand and introduces himself.

"Such nice manners," she gushes, a small blush gracing her cheek bones. She's clutching their locked hands, trapping them between the two of them and standing way too close.

"It's an honour getting to meet Kurt's closest friends," Blaine says politely. Her enthusiasm kind of reminds him of Wes and Jeff, and he can better understand how it is to be Kurt at Dalton now. Blaine's used to his own friends, but Rachel's excitement alerts him of unpredictability, and that's something he doesn't handle very well. She's also standing too close for him to be comfortable, and he takes deep, controlled breaths.

"Do you sing, Blaine? I have a wide selection of songs in my karaoke catalogue, I'm sure we can find something for your voice."

"Rachel, why don't you go and see if Finn hooked up your karaoke machine correctly? You know he isn't the most tech savvy there is."

Rachel startles, excuses herself and darts off to check her precious.

"Let's find some tamer friends," Kurt suggests, looking at Blaine for his response.

"Sure," he laughs easily, but Kurt looks at him as if he doesn't believe him.

"You know you can leave anytime you want, okay?"

"Whenever you want to return to Dalton, we leave," Blaine parries.

"Blaine," Kurt insists.

"I'm fine," Blaine reassures him, patting him on the shoulder and turning up the sincerity in his voice a notch or two.

Kurt looks sternly at him for a moment, and then one more.

"Okay," he nods, and leads the way further in the house.

In a couch, three pretty girls are sitting; smiling and laughing.

"Dolphin!" the one in the middle shouts, leaping out of her seat, and runs over to Kurt. She tries to jump up in his arms, but he manages to stop her with a wide smile and a firm grip of her shoulders.

To say that Blaine is confused is an understatement, but he maintains the smile on his lips as he watches the sweet reunion.

"Hey Brit-Brit, how are you?" Kurt asks tenderly.

"I'm really good now that you are here," she sighs pleased, and lets go of him. "Have you found someone to swim with?" she asks, looking at Blaine. Was Kurt on the swimming team in his old school?

"No," Kurt laughs, and Blaine wonders if the girls can hear how strained the laughter is. "This is my friend from Dalton; Blaine.

"My sweetheart doesn't like it when I hug cute boys we haven't met before, so I'm going to say hi and just wave," the girl says, waving eagerly and smiling at Blaine, before sitting down in the couch again.

Blaine keeps his polite smile on, discreetly looking around for a jealous boyfriend.

"Blaine; that was Brittany. I'd like for you to meet Santana…" A stunningly beautiful Latina nods at him, and maintains eye contact as she wraps an arm protectively around Brittany. Okay then. "…and this is Quinn." The blonde girl gets up and extends a hand delicately to Blaine. Pure manners.

"Nice to meet you, Blaine," she says sweetly, and a cold shiver runs through Blaine. The first impression she's giving off is giving him mixed signals. She looks intently at him, and he feels x-rayed by her eyes. She quickly looks at Kurt, and then back at him. "So you're Kurt's friend."

"That I am."

"Hmm…"

"Quinn," Kurt quietly warns.

She smiles disarmingly at him, and takes a sip of her drink.

"You should introduce your friend to the rest of us."

Kurt gently tugs on Blaine's sleeve, and takes him to a corner of the room, where some boys are squatted by a laptop and the speakers.

"Guys, I want you to meet Blaine from my new school," Kurt says softly to the boys.

An Asian boy is the first to tear his eyes from the playlists on Spotify they're rummaging, and his eyes lit up when he sees Kurt.

"Blaine, this is Mike. Mike, meet Blaine."

The boy is fairly tall when he stands up, and his smile seems honest as he greets both of them.

"Good to see you, man!" He quickly nods at Blaine in acknowledgement, before wrapping Kurt up in a warm embrace.

Blaine's heart constricts and something roars in his stomach. Do they have a history; why are they so close? Have the other boys greeted him like this? Why is he so good looking?

"Blaine?"

Blaine manages to pry his eyes away from the two hugging boys towards the sound of his name.

"Sam?" he startles.

The more than familiar boy gets up from the floor, and Blaine can see he wants to hug him; Sam was always tactile like that, but luckily he remembers and respects Blaine's boundaries.

"How are you?" Blaine asks, knowing he sounds out of breath and amazed. Which he truly is.

"Good. I'm good; things are better. And you, man?"

"Oh, you know…" Blaine smiles bashfully, he really doesn't like to talk about this.

"No, I don't. That's why I ask, dummy," Sam grins, not being able to stop himself from teasingly bump a fist against Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine flinches, and Sam immediately looks sorry.

"The same, I guess?" he answers, pretending like nothing.

"I see you've made a new friend," Sam smiles, nodding at Kurt who's now out of Mike's arms, but are talking with him and a boy in a wheel chair.

"Yeah, I did," Blaine can't help but smile.

"That's good. He's a good guy."

"Who's a good guy?"

"Kurt! There's someone I want you to meet. Kurt, this is my friend Sam. Sam, this is Kurt."

The boys shake hands and laugh; Blaine hasn't heard Kurt laugh this freely in a long time. And Blaine hasn't been this confused in a long time.

"I believe I missed a punch line," Blaine admits, shedding some of his confidence in front of his two weird acting friends.

"Oh honey," Kurt coughs, and there's a slight tickle along Blaine's spine at the term of endearment. "Sam goes to McKinley. But how do you know each other?" Kurt looks confused, but he rocks the look.

"Sam went to Dalton," Blaine murmurs, trying to make the puzzle pieces fit. They both end up looking at Sam.

"I did my freshman year and the first half of my sophomore year at Dalton. Then dad lost his job and money, and I transferred to McKinley," he shrugs.

"I didn't even know if you were still in Ohio. You kind of disappeared."

"It was embarrassing, you know. So I focused on settling down here."

"Well, come by one day. The boys will love to meet you again. And now you have Kurt there as well."

"This is a very small world," Kurt mutters.

"I told you I came from an all boys-school," Sam smirks. "And if I'd known you were transferring to Dalton, I'd done more to help you," he says apologetically.

"Don't worry, Sam. I didn't exactly expect to find an ex-blazer in the hellhole of Lima."

Someone clears their throat, startling the three boys.

"Oh, sorry," Sam jumps. "Artie, this is Blaine, an old friend of mine and a new friend of Kurt. Blaine, this is Artie."

"Yo!" Artie greets, smiling sincerely, offering his fist.

"Well, I have more people to introduce Blaine to, so I'll let you continue to find some proper music for this party," Kurt says, rolling his eyes at their current selection; _What Makes You Beautiful_.

He walks off, so Blaine waves at Sam and jogs to catch up with his newest friend. Kurt seems to be headed for the kitchen. There he finds two girls he remembers.

"Hey girls," Kurt says, sounding hesitant, almost awkward. Huh. Blaine thought these were good friends of Kurt. They were among those who came to visit him, after all. Blaine can't remember their names, though, and he should, because he knows they introduced themselves. It hasn't been that long; he should be able to remember two names for a couple of months.

"Hi!" the tiny Asian girl squeals, jumping down from the kitchen bench to hug Kurt. She looks at Blaine over Kurt's shoulder, and Blaine somehow feels as if she disapproves of him.

"Tina," Kurt smiles, and ends the hug.

"Hi Kurt…" the African-American girl says, studying her shoes dangling in the air.

"Hi Mercedes. How are you?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. How are _you_?" she asks, voice trembling.

There's an odd tension between the two of them, and Blaine doesn't understand what's going on, but he feels as if he's intruding on something.

"Fine. I'm fine," Kurt rushes, looking uncomfortable.

"Do you want something to drink, Kurt?" Blaine offers, looking for a polite way to give them some privacy to talk.

"Oh snap, look at me nose diving as a host. What can I offer you, Blaine?"

Kurt smiles hesitantly at the two girls, who decide to leave. The sink is filled with ice, wine coolers and beer bottles. On the bench Blaine recognizes the glass bowl with punch they prepared earlier, and it wasn't Perrier in the bottle Puck added later. To be honest, Blaine hasn't thought about how he'd party tonight. He's usually not much of a drinker, too concerned with maintaining control and monitoring his surroundings. But he should be safe tonight, in a house with Kurt, Sam and his friends, right? Kurt doesn't keep bad friends, surely? And Blaine feels overwhelmed and tired already, so maybe a drink is what he needs now, to feel less ambushed and scrutinized by Kurt's friends. An anxiety attack has been gradually building in the pit of his stomach, and he really needs to calm down.

"I think I'll be bold and try some of the punch," Blaine smiles politely.

"Okay, then we'll both be bold," Kurt agrees. "I'm afraid Finn insisted on red solo cups, arguing it'd save us time with less to wash tomorrow. And I guess it's a good thing nobody can break any of the glasses, at least," Kurt apologizes as he pours their drinks.

"How are you doing?" he asks as he hands Blaine his cup.

"Fine?" Blaine wonders why Kurt's asking.

"You can't ask me how you're feeling, Blaine," Kurt smiles amused, and the smile seems more honest and private than the other grimaces Blaine's seen on the boy's face so far this night.

"So far there have been some surprises, so I'd say it's an interesting night."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you. And if you take a sip of that cup you seal your faith."

Blaine looks questioningly at him.

"I'm not letting you drive away here when you've been drinking. So you have to choose. Do you want to endure this crazy night with me, or do you prefer to save your ass and get out of here?"

Blaine looks him square in the eyes and downs the entire cup.

"Well okay then," Kurt visibly gulps.

* * *

A comfortable, pleasing buzz has enveloped Finn's brain, and he can't help but smile pleased from his position in the big recliner. Artie is spinning on his wheels and Mike is doing some intricate moves Finn hopes he'll never suggest to Schue. Puck is strutting his stuff, showing off for Lauren. The girls are gathered on the big couch with their drinks and gossip. Sam, Kurt and Blaine are standing away from the improvised dance floor, talking eagerly about something. They're smiling and laughing, especially Sam and Blaine, and it's cool that Sam got an old friend back. Finn's friends are finally gathered, complete again with Kurt here. Blaine is an added bonus, but Finn's so glad to see him and what he can do for Kurt, he'll happily include him in their circle of friends.

Finn doesn't know Blaine's story. Hell, he doesn't understand how Kurt's mind is working at the moment, he just knows his brother is hurting and has a lot of crappy days. But Blaine was at that hospital too, so that has to mean his days can be shitty too, too difficult to cope with. Maybe Kurt's not the only one burrowing his face in the pillows to muffle how he cries himself to sleep. Maybe Kurt's not the only one who loses weight and won't eat. Maybe Kurt's not the only one who stops laughing and having fun with his friends. Maybe Kurt's not the only one dying slowly on the inside. Maybe Blaine sometimes deals with the same problems as Kurt, and maybe Blaine is someone who can understand Kurt in a way Finn fails to do. Maybe Blaine can be someone Kurt needs.

Finn is hopeful. He's glad Kurt isn't alone in his new school, and he's glad he has someone who's seen more of Kurt than most others. It's not like his suicide attempt and subsequent stay at the psychiatric ward is a secret for the guys in New Directions. But they don't know many details, and Kurt refuses to speak about it with them. He seems bothered, almost embarrassed. But he doesn't need to be embarrassed in front of Blaine, Finn hopes, not when they've been in the same place.

It has to be good for Kurt to have someone who understands, someone who can relate, someone to talk with. Finn remembers how it was when Quinn told him she was pregnant. He didn't know anybody else his age who was supposed to be a dad, he had nobody to talk with, he had nobody who could give him advice, he had nobody in the same situation to share fear and hopes with. But Kurt has Blaine. And maybe Blaine gets to see some of the layers Kurt keeps hid for his family, and then maybe Kurt will come back as the Kurt he used to be.

Finn looks curiously at Blaine, wondering what his story is. The boy is laughing loudly, head thrown backwards, clearly enjoying something Sam has said. Kurt is laughing more restricted, hiding his mouth behind his hand. Finn knows Kurt's depressed. Can Blaine be depressed, when he laughs so wholeheartedly? Has he tried to kill himself too? What is his story and history? What are his secrets?

Finn's been trying so hard to do the right things for Kurt, figuring out and learning through try and err what the boy needs. Finn really wants to do well with him. And he doesn't want to screw up anything with Blaine either; he wants the boy to feel welcome, and as Kurt's friend he might come back later too. So it's important for Finn to treat him right. But he doesn't know how.

He sighs and finishes his beer. He'll just have to treat him like he treats Puck until he screws up, and learn from that.

Come to think about it, maybe he should treat him rather like Sam or Mike than Puck…

* * *

Seeing his friends again hurts. It reminds him of a lot of things he's tried to forget and suppress. It's painful to hear the new inside jokes he's no longer a part of. It's painful to see changes in the dynamics among his friends. It's painful to be reminded about why he can't be at McKinley anymore. It hurts to realize how much he's lost and let go of. It hurts to think about how he'll never be happy again. And it hurts to see how they're looking at him, as if they're not certain how they should talk to him or reach out for him. It hurts to realize their conversations ebb or change when he approaches them.

He feels like an insider and an outsider at the same time. He feels like a spectacle at the circus.

He pours another cup of the punch. He can't call it spiked when they already know there is booze in it, can they? Knowing Puck, it'll be strong enough to numb him somewhat.

Rachel slides over to him with a pink wine cooler in her hand.

"Is Blaine single?" she whispers conspiratorially into his ear.

"Yeah, he is, but…" Kurt stops himself, because he isn't sure how out Blaine is.

"Wonderful," she beams, and skips off again.

Quinn has been flirting with Finn all evening, leaving the boy looking dazed and confused. Rachel downs the wine cooler while she glares at the girl. She pops a new bottle, and looks determined at Blaine.

"Spin the bottle! Let's spin the bottle!" she shouts, slurring slightly.

Puck lowers the volume on the music to a more proper background soundtrack. Sam and Finn gather the throw cushions from the couch on the middle of the floor, and Kurt wonders why the boys are the most eager to get some lip action tonight. Most of the girls are filling their cups or getting cold bottles, and Kurt snickers. Do they need to be drunker to be able to kiss any of the boys?

Eventually they're all gathered in a circle. Kurt isn't exactly jumping from joy, but it's easier to join than to face their worried and disappointed expressions. When he asked Blaine if it was okay, the boy had just shrugged and sat down next to him.

Rachel, as the initiative taker, spins the bottle first, and it lands on Mike. They share a quick, innocent peck. When Mike spins, it lands on Santana, and the Latina kisses him until Tina knocks her in the head with her high healed shoe. Santana spins the bottle, and "accidentally" stretches her foot so it stops on Brittany.

"Cramps," she smirks, and leans over to kiss Brittany deeply.

Then the bottle lands on Kurt, and Brittany beams.

"Dolphin!" she enthusiasts, and crawls across the circle. Artie and Puck whistle, enjoying the view her short skirt offers in that position, but they stop when Santana glares at them shooting off a rapid threat in Spanish.

Brittany puts her lips on Kurt's, and he quickly finishes it, limiting it to a chaste peck. It feels familiar, like kissing an old friend, which she is. But they've had more heated kissing between them before, so this feels like a joke.

When he spins it, the bottle lands on Mercedes. They air kiss with exaggerated sound effects, giggling and leaving it at that. Her giggles seem fake and plastered on, though, and it hurts that she can't act around him like before. It hurts that she is actually acting around him.

Mercedes kisses Puck, and when he spins the bottle it lands on Kurt again.

"Prepare to be Puckerized," he winks. "Pucker up for Noah," he continues, and crawls across the circle.

Kurt rolls his eyes and shakes his head. _Really?_

Puck grabs the front of Kurt's shirt, and Kurt wants to yell, because hey, watch the fabric, okay?

But then Puck's lips are on Kurt's, and it isn't the chaste, brief, hurried peck he expected. It's an honest to God kiss, confident and insisting. _To hell with it_, Kurt thinks, and reciprocates. There's no tongue, but Puck sucks Kurt's lower lip into his mouth. Kurt's idle hands feel awkwardly useless, so he lets them rest on Puck's biceps. _Mmm, biceps, nice biceps._ He takes over the kiss, and Puck actually smiles against his lips.

"Wanky!" Santana drawls, and that girl seriously needs a new repertoire, she's getting predictable.

"That's my brother…" Finn sighs, and Kurt needs to sit down with him one day and point out who's oldest of them, and has he ever objected to him sucking face with Rachel or Quinn or whoever is the flavour of the week?

Artie whistles and pumps his arm in the air. Quinn sighs and rolls her eyes. Tina and Mercedes giggle, and Sam uses the opportunity to scoot closer to Mercedes, where Puck sat.

Puck leans back with an exaggerated smacking noise, and grins.

"Puckerman's been Kurtified!"

"Is Noah a dolphin now?" Brittany asks confused, and Santana tries to explain it to her.

"Nah," Puck relents, "there are still enough women for The Puckerman. But damn Hummel can kiss. Really good lips too," he smirks.

"Lip balm," Kurt snorts. "A novel invention; you may have heard about it?"

"All I know, is you don't have that foul tasting lipstick that leaves stains on my collar and dick and everywhere. Keep up the good work," Puck grins, and bumps his fist against Kurt's shoulder.

"I need a drink after this," Kurt mutters. "Do you want anything?" he asks Blaine, who's laughing softly next to him.

"Yes, please," Blaine smiles gently. "I'll gladly come with you," he says, getting ready to move.

"I've got it covered," Kurt assures him, patting his shoulder.

When he comes back, Rachel is about to do her spin. It lands on Blaine, and she grins wickedly at Kurt, winking exaggeratedly at him. He rolls his eyes and gives Blaine his drink; he might need it. Miss Subtle is about to attack him.

Rachel crawls across the floor, probably thinking she looks tantalizing and erotic, but she's grinning doofusly and crawling on unsteady hands. She doesn't stop until her knees are touching Blaine's.

"Blaine Dalton… I'm gonna rrrrrock your world," she slurs, and Kurt hides his face in his hands. This isn't happening.

She attacks a surprised Blaine's lips, and slips a hand around his neck. He laughs awkwardly against her mouth, and leans back away from her. He closes his mouth, looking down, and Rachel rests her hands in her lap.

"You're cute when you're shy," she whispers loud enough for all of them to hear as she crawls back.

Blaine gives the bottle a firm spin, and it takes several rounds on the floor before slowing down, and finally stopping in front of Kurt.

"Oh, you don't have to kiss him if you don't want to," Rachel reassures him.

Kurt knows she's trying to be considerate with their guest, but it still hurts. What's wrong with him? Why would his friends not want to kiss him? Is he that horrible?

"I kissed him!" Puck objects, grinning and giving Kurt thumbs up.

"Finn didn't", Rachel parries.

"It's my brother," Finn sighs patiently.

"That's so not a problem," Blaine says, and shuffles on his knees towards Kurt. He moves somewhat to face the other boy too. They kissed several times at Bellefontaine, so this shouldn't be a big deal. But they have hardly hugged after that, it's one and a half month since their lips met last.

Blaine looks Kurt steadily in the eyes, gives him a moment to object, but Kurt just smiles at him. He leans in, and Kurt meets him halfway. Their lips greet, softly and slowly, without hesitance. Blaine tilts his head slightly to avoid their noses bumping into each other, and Kurt can feel him smile against his lips. It's the best kiss he's had all night, from the most right person for him to kiss, and Kurt moves so their lips are intertwined, massaging gently.

"Get some!" Puck shouts in the background, and Lauren smacks his shoulder.

Rachel is muttering something about dibs, but Kurt ignores it.

Blaine cups Kurt's cheek, and Kurt rests a hand against Blaine's heart. They crawl on their knees to get even closer, interlacing their kneeling thighs. Blaine wraps the other hand around Kurt's waist, and licks gently along Kurt's lips. Kurt lets him in, humming pleased and resting the other hand on Blaine's hip. Blaine's lips quirks up even further and he's rubbing his thumb along Kurt's spine. Their lips separate for a brief moment in the corners to inhale some oxygen, and Kurt deepens the kiss again. Blaine moans softly, and the vibrations tickles Kurt's tongue. He kisses Blaine more eagerly, his fingers curling on Blaine's thigh.

"Somebody get the hose!" Santana hollers, and that's what gets them back to the Hudmel's living room.

"That's pretty gay," Puck grins approvingly.

"I _am_ pretty gay," Blaine blushes bashfully and ducks his head.

Kurt slips his hand into Blaine's to offer him support. He basically came out in front of all of Kurt's friends, and even though Kurt knows they are accepting and tolerant, they can still have some far out reactions easily misunderstood. Besides, Kurt hasn't dared to come out to Blaine's friends yet, so he knows scary.

"He _is_ a pretty dolphin," Brittany gushes, leaning her head on Santana's shoulder, who winks at the two boys.

Rachel looks crestfallen, and Tina looks as if she wants to pound on Kurt with all her questions. Mercedes smiles timidly at him, and Kurt wishes he knew why she's being so awkward with him. Finn looks confused.

"So are you dating?" he finally asks.

"Are you dating everybody you've kissed tonight?" Kurt answers snarkily and shakes his head.

"OK, any other having sexualities to reveal, or can we move on?" Artie asks.

Nobody says anything, but Blaine looks questioningly at Kurt.

"This is my weird friends' way of saying they don't care if you're gay and my step-brother being overprotective," he whispers in Blaine's ear.

The bottle seems to be sufficiently spun, and they move on to other arenas. Rachel suggests it's time for karaoke, and walks briskly and determined to her pink bedazzled microphone. She probably has a lot of emotions to sing about, and Kurt feels too sober to deal with that now. He fixes a new drink for Blaine and him.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Blaine?" he asks concerned, approaching the boy resting against the wall.

"Best. Party. Ever!" he grins, accepting Kurt's drink and trying to clink their plastic cups in a toast.

"And look at him!" he continues, pointing at Finn who slides up between them.

_Seriously, Finn, chaperoning?_ Kurt wonders for himself.

"It's so cool that you're brothers," Blaine gushes. "Big brothers are amazing, you must always love each other," he says seriously, before he giggles. "Are you half brothers?" he asks, gesturing far over his head with one hand and almost by his own head with the other hand.

"We're step-brothers, remember?" Kurt snorts and lowers Blaine's hands. "Do you want to sing anything?" he asks, nodding at the newly assembled equipment, where Rachel is just finishing her first solo for the night.

"Yes!" Blaine hisses. "Because your friends are awesome, and I'm super relaxed, and you – you're the best," he smiles, squeezing Kurt's hands firmly before letting go.

"Rachel, I think you'll have to show me how this works," he skips over to the girl.

"Will you be my duet partner?" she asks, smiling sweetly.

"Maybe later, right now I have a song I want to sing, if you have it."

"Blaine Dalton – I have anything," she huffs.

He whispers something into her ear, and her blush makes the temperature in the room increase with a couple of degrees. Kurt's curiosity is peaked. Rachel dials the right buttons, and leaves Blaine on his own. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows, rolling on his feet.

The familiar intro fills the room, and Kurt's lips curl up to a smile. He can see some of his friends looking confused, but knowing Blaine this is just him finding an outlet for his own brand of polite sarcasm.

_This was never the way I planned, not my intention. I got so brave, drink in hand, lost my discretion. It's not what I'm used to, just wanna try you on. I'm curious for you caught my attention_, he sings, blowing Kurt's mind. Sure they've sung together, but Kurt's never seen Blaine **perform**. And the boy totally rocks it, owning the stage and taking over the room. Are the Warblers aware of what they're missing out on with Blaine remaining on the side line?

_I kissed a girl and I liked it, the taste of her cherry chapstick. I kissed a girl just to try it, I hope my boyfriend don't mind it. It felt so wrong, it felt so right, don't mean I'm in love tonight. I kissed a girl and I liked it, I liked it._

Blaine is dancing, or at least jumping slightly uncoordinated and uncontrolled, all over the "stage", and he's got every single friend of Kurt eating out of his hand with their enthusiastic response. Except for Rachel, who's approached Kurt.

"Is he a member of the Warblers?" she asks sternly.

Kurt looks dumbly at her, and shakes his head.

"Good," she says, twirling off again.

Blaine repeats the chorus, and is looking Kurt square in the face throughout it. Kurt smiles reassuringly at him – Blaine's brave for performing like this in front of basically strangers.

He completes the song, and skips over to Kurt, beaming.

"Anything you'd like to say?" Kurt smirks.

"Oh, I'm all gay," Blaine insists, and leans in to kiss the boy sweetly.

It surprises Kurt, but what the hell, why not?

In the meantime, Santana's taken the "stage", and is crooning an old classic.

_The world is closing in. Did you ever think That we could be so close, like brothers? The future's in the air, I can feel it everywhere, Blowing with the wind of change._

_Take me to the magic of the moment On a glory night, Where the children of tomorrow dream away In the wind of change._

Brittany is swaying on the floor in front of her, smiling at her.

"Come dance with me," Blaine pleads.

Kurt glances around the room at his friends in various states of drunk. He worries they'll start pestering him about joining the Warblers if they see him enjoying music again.

"Please?" Blaine begs, carefully resting a hand on Kurt's elbow, running a thumb over his naked skin.

Kurt swallows. Blaine is slowly crawling under his skin, in all the best and worst ways.

"Okay," Kurt relents, surprising himself.

Blaine looks really pleased with Kurt agreeing, and hooks a finger in one of Kurt's belt loops, pulling him further onto the floor.

They dance without touching, but still close. Their naked arms brush against each other now and then, and Blaine mirrors Kurt's movements; letting him lead their dance. Kurt can't rip his eyes away from Blaine's mesmerizing eyes, though, trapped and captured.

As if surrounded by fog, Kurt barely notices Tina taking the stage, dedicating a song to Mike.

_Love oh love, I gotta tell you how I feel about you. Cause I oh I can't go a minute without your love. Like a satellite, I'm in an orbit all the way around you. And I would fall out into the night. Can't go a minute without your love._

Blaine breaks their pattern and dances around Kurt when Tina sings about the satellite, and Kurt chuckles. Blaine is quite funny.

_Where you'll go I'll follow. You set the pace we'll take it fast or slow. I'll follow in your way. You got me you got me. A force more powerful than gravity. It's physics, there's no escape._

Blaine softly takes Kurt's hand, his index finger resting right over Kurt's throbbing scar under the cuff. He spins Kurt outwards, and flips him back to his arms, and Kurt can't help but laugh.

Over Blaine's shoulder, he sees something interesting.

"I don't think Sam misses Dalton much," Kurt whispers in the other boy's ear, who looks confused. Kurt looks pointedly behind Blaine, and the boy turns around to see Sam and Mercedes busy in a lip lock.

* * *

Blaine feels dizzy, but he thinks he still manages to walk – at least he descended the stairs to Kurt's room without any kind of help. His talking sounds clear enough in his ears, he doesn't feel sick, and he knows what to do if a sudden emergency happens, so his brain isn't that soaked in alcohol.

"Where's your brother?" he asks when Kurt comes out of the bathroom.

"I saw him asleep under the kitchen table. Oh, Blaine…" Kurt startles. "Most of the air has left your mattress, that old thing. I'll have to tell dad to buy a new one."

"I'll just refill it," Blaine reassures him.

"And risk the air slips out sometime tonight and you wake up with a kink in your back? Nuhu, you sleep with me," Kurt insists as he crawls under the covers.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asks hesitantly, not wanting to intrude.

"Of course. We've shared a bed before."

_And you freaked out when you woke up_, Blaine remembers, but keeps silent.

Slowly, he lowers back, and lifts his legs in the air to pull the cover on top of him. Kurt's bed is big enough so they don't have to fight for space.

"Thank you for coming with me." The room is dark except for Kurt's reading lamp on his bedside table, and the soft glow makes interesting shadows on Kurt's face. Blaine can see him smiling, though.

"Thank you for inviting me," he replies, "I had a really nice time."

"I'm glad my friends didn't scare you completely away."

"I'm not that fragile," Blaine chuckles. "And they're not that bad," he adds.

Kurt abruptly jumps out of bed, dashing slightly unsteady over to his vanity.

"Damn, I forgot my skin care regime. Gray hair can be covered up, but I need to work hard to maintain perfect skin for the rest of my life. I'm going to look gorgeous when I'm 87," Kurt giggles, and sits down in front of the mirror, opening the lids of several bottles.

"I'm sure you will," Blaine murmurs, resting his head on the soft pillows. His head feels kind of heavy, and it's easier to lie down, even though it means he can't see what Kurt's doing.

"How old do you think you'll be?" Kurt asks randomly.

Blaine thinks for a while, it's a new question to ponder, and he thinks Kurt deserves a good answer.

"There are days where I think I won't make it 'till I'm 20. Then there are days where I'd like to live 'till I'm 120."

Kurt comes back to bed, crawling back under the covers, lying down on his side to look at Blaine.

"I know what you mean. Thomas told me to focus on one hour at the time, and if that was too much, go on minute by minute. And look at us, we've survived several hours this evening, it's a new day, we're closer to whatever we're supposed to be looking for, and all that shit."

Blaine laughs out loud; because Kurt looks and sounds so enthusiastic, but at the same time it's evident he thinks Thomas talks a lot of crap. And his face is covered with lotion that hasn't been massaged sufficiently into his skin.

"You've got… May I?" he asks, hand hovering over Kurt's cheek.

Kurt takes his hand, examining it thoroughly.

"What do you mean?" he asks intensely when he can't find any answers in the palm of Blaine's hand.

"You... You've still got something on your face, and I thought I'd rub it for you."

"Okay," Kurt says, leaning on one elbow, and shoves his head forwards like the cutest little turtle.

Blaine's index finger runs along the smears of lotion on his forehead, working it properly into Kurt's skin. The finger continues down his temple, and Kurt is watching him intently, both trying to follow the finger's trail and maintaining eye contact with Blaine. The finger slides down, following a path of random lotion dollops, and Blaine cups his cheek to cover it all.

He doesn't know if he's pulling Kurt towards him or if Kurt is leaning closer, but the distance between their faces is shortened. Blaine can feel puffs of Kurt's breath against his skin, and he lets go of Kurt's chin. With his thumb, he smooches out the little lotion left on the subtle cleft of Kurt's cheek.

He still doesn't know who moves, but he quickly realizes their lips seem to be touching.

"Is this okay?" Kurt whispers, lips barely an inch from Blaine's lips. His breath tickles.

"Yeah," Blaine exhales, because why wouldn't it be? Blaine likes Kurt, and he likes kissing Kurt. This is nice.

Kurt closes the distance between their lips again, and Blaine hums against his lips. Kurt quickly deepens the kiss, and Blaine lets him. He reciprocates, and curls an arm around the other boy. Kurt scoots even closer, and curls his fingers around Blaine's shoulder.

The kiss grows insistent, and Blaine pulls him even closer. He loses balance, though, resting on his side, and falls backwards. Kurt groans his displeasure, and follows after, straddling him. Their lips meet again. Kurt's hands are wandering oh so slowly along Blaine's upper arms, shoulders, down his chest, and up again the same path. Blaine's hands are resting on Kurt's lower back.

This feels so good!

Kurt is doing something sinfully delicious with his tongue; licking the roof of his mouth, twirling it around his tongue, letting it run along the edges of Blaine's teeth, swiping across his lower lip, and sucking it into his mouth. Blaine tries to copy what Kurt did, 'cause it felt so, so good, and he really wants Kurt to feel good too.

Kurt moans breathlessly, and the sound shoots straight up Blaine's spine. He tries to breathe slowly to steady himself; he doesn't want to risk doing something wrong.

Kurt curves his spine upwards, and Blaine runs a hand along it soothingly. Without thinking, he spreads his legs so Kurt can lay down between them instead of bending down awkwardly over him. Kurt shuffles his legs and body, before resting down, and Blaine can't hold back the moan. It feels so intimate, so personal, so sacred to have Kurt's body on top of his own. To feel his weight, being pushed further down into the mattress, being surrounded by the touch and scent and feeling of Kurt… Blaine's hands wander up to the other boy's shoulder blades, and hold him close.

Kurt's let go of Blaine's lips, and his own are nibbling their way down his throat. He's sucking and licking by Blaine's jaw, and he thinks his eyes must have rolled to the back of his scull. It feels so much, and it's paralyzing him, he can't move intentionally. Some parts of him are still mobile, though, and when Kurt bites lightly over his collar bone, Blaine's hips spontaneously bucks up.

They both freeze, realizing they're feeling the other's hardness. Blaine is staring wide eyed at Kurt, afraid and not having a clue how to backpedal out of this.

Kurt moves his hips tentatively, meeting Blaine. The hesitant slide of Kurt's hips and erection against Blaine's feels too much, and Blaine can't hold back the moan that escapes.

"Blaine…" Kurt whimpers, and Blaine lowers his hips so he can thrust them up against Kurt again.

"Yesss…" Kurt hisses, thrusting back and forcing Blaine down into the mattress.

Blaine never thought he'd be in this situation – in this very sexy situation, with a really hot guy he cares about, kissing and rubbing against each other. And maybe this isn't how he dreamed about how it'd happen, drunk at a party. Is he losing his virginity now? Is this considered sex, if they continue this wonderful work of friction until he comes, which he without doubt will in only a short amount of time? Should he be this stereotypically cliché, diving to bed just like that at a party?

Muffled and shouting thoughts fight for dominance in his brain, until he decides to hell with it all. This is Kurt, this is a boy he really likes, and if he'd allowed himself he would already have gotten off to images of this boy. Getting off _with_ the boy is so much better. And maybe they're doing things in the wrong order, but Blaine just wants to be closer to the boy, and they won't come much closer than this without a bottle of lube. So Blaine lets go, and lets himself enjoy everything.

This is all so new, and so very, very exciting. He's meeting Kurt's increasingly frantic thrusts, and letting the boy devour him with his lips. But Blaine wants to play too. He plants his feet on the mattress for power and support, and flips both of them over, so he's on top. Kurt laughs surprised, and Blaine can't help but smile at him.

There's so much he'd like to do, to try, but even though they definitely haven't talked about this, he assumes there's a limit, and decides not to push anything. He'll join the joyride, but let Kurt set the pace. So Blaine reigns in the urge to slip his hands under Kurt's long sleeved t-shirt to feel his skin, and he blocks himself from using his lips on places Kurt hasn't explored on Blaine. But Blaine can be pretty okay with that, because there is so much glorious skin to touch and taste, to put his mouth on, just from the collar bone and up. He licks along the entire length of Kurt's neck, from where shoulder meets neck all the way up to his ear. He blows testily in his ear, smiles as Kurt responds vocally, and blows once more.

He curls his arms around Kurt's torso, holding him tight and close, while thrusting and rolling, bucking against Kurt, meeting his slides and movements, keeping their legs positioned so that their erections can rub so tantalizingly hot against each other. Kurt's wrapped one leg around Blaine's waist, and Blaine can feel so much of him through the thin fabric of his cotton pyjamas pants. A part of him wants to look, taste and feel Kurt _there_, but he's not complaining, oh God, Blaine is not complaining in this position.

Someone's sending fireworks up his spine, and Blaine knows it's Kurt, and he grins before leaning down and kissing the boy sweetly on the lips, a stark contrast to his eager hips frotting like a Duracell bunny further down.

"Kurt," he whimpers, because this is all too good, and he has to acknowledge loudly the other boy's presence to convince himself this is really happening.

"Blaine, please… So close," Kurt whispers breathlessly, and the words are thunderous in Blaine's ears.

The all so familiar, but still alien sensation fills Blaine. His body levitates, his stomach churns, shrinking in on itself, his head swims, and his balls tightens. So good, so, so good, he runs like a mantra in his head. His dick is practically touching Kurt's, they're clinging to each other, Blaine's lips and tongue exploring Kurt's willing mouth, the other boy's vocal chords making a delightful soundtrack of moans, sighs and whimpers, Kurt meeting his thrusts.

"Kurt," Blaine hisses, on that painful verge of everything.

"Blaiiiine," Kurt sings, throws his head backwards as if it can go through the pillows and mattress, and tenses. Blaine can feel him pulsate against him, and that's all it takes for Blaine to take the last step and leap over with him.

* * *

Kurt slowly gains consciousness, but keeps his eyes shut. His head hurts too much for anything else. He briefly wonders if he's been having nightmares again, as Finn is sleeping next to him, with a heavy arm draped across his stomach. Kurt also wonders if he can bug Finn into getting him a bottle of water, because his mouth is dryer than his wit.

He yawns, and instantly regrets it, as it intensifies his headache. Why is his head pounding like this?

"Get up," he moans drowsily, shaking the arm on top of him.

No response.

So he opens his eyes to avoid elbowing or kneeing Finn somewhere it really hurts. Finn got really pissed the last time Kurt did that, but it's not that easy to navigate around that tall body.

The arm is draped over him, but the body is turned away from him, and he can only see the back of Finn's head. He blinks several times, wondering when Finn curled his hair.

And then he remembers, and he really wants to freak out, but he wants to do so without waking up Blaine, and how can he wrestle himself out of bed without Blaine noticing?

He can't, so he stays still, heart beating rapidly, and his mind clogged with chaos.

Everything.

He remembers everything.

He got drunk. Blaine got drunk. They made out in front of all of his friends during spin the bottle. They kept sharing sweet kisses throughout the night. Blaine helped him with his lotion. They made out again. And came, together.

Kurt wiggles his lower body, trying to remember what happened afterwards. He sneaks a hand down under the covers, and gasps. Apparently he must have thought it a good idea to get rid of his underwear and pyjamas pants afterwards. He wonders if Blaine is equally semi naked.

And he wonders if he's ever made a bigger mistake in his life. Losing Blaine's friendship will render him really, really lonely at Dalton. How could he ruin things so easily? Why can't anything good remain in Kurt's life?

He sighs, thinking about how the combination of booze and hormones are a true curse. Gods, he'd been so stupid. Kissing Blaine during spin the bottle had felt really good; he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed it at Bellefontaine. And having him in his bed again had been like erasing any kind of boundary and morale. Being with Blaine like that had felt so, so good, it had been impossible to stop. Because Kurt hasn't felt good in the longest time, so that selfish fighting chip somewhere in his brain had completely dominated, demanding to be pleased and experience something good.

Consequences hadn't been on his mind at all. Just like Kurt learned that kissing doesn't have to mean anything, he must on some level have decided yesterday that coming in his pants with Blaine doesn't mean anything more than a couple of minutes of bliss. But he didn't take into account what Blaine would think. And now he's most certainly repulsed by Kurt's promiscuity and disgusting drunken behaviour. And he's lost a good friend for ever.

Kurt takes a moment to mourn the loss, before he has to find a way to climb with some dignity out of bed, and at least make a farewell breakfast before Blaine drives back to Dalton.

The body next to him stirs, and Kurt mentally face palms. He should have been out of bed already, to be a good host, but primarily to avoid this moment. The arm on his stomach disappears, and Blaine moans as he stretches his entire length from fingers to toes.

He turns around, squints, but smiles at Kurt. Kurt stiffens, waiting for it. He looks confused for a moment, rubbing his eyes, but slowly a smile is painted across his lips.

"Good morning," Blaine murmurs.

Kurt nods politely, chewing his upper lip.

"Hey, hey, hey," Blaine says, sitting up, and the covers pools lower on his clothed stomach. Kurt tries not to think about whether he's naked too under those covers or not. "Let's not make this weird, please?" he pleads.

Kurt can't help but snort, because it's too late for that.

Blaine leans on his elbow and reaches the other arm closer, his fingers curling around Kurt's. "What happened, happened. It was unexpected, but I'll only regret it if it stains our friendship."

Kurt studies Blaine's sincere face and steady eyes. But there's also a hint of fear in his gaze.

He laces their fingers together.

"I think…" Kurt says, "…we'll always be friends."

Blaine visibly sags with relief, and he tightens the hold of their fingers.

"I'm glad," he murmurs. "I'm really, really glad."

Blaine lies down on his back again, their interwoven hands resting between them on top of the covers. They lie like that for a long time, and Kurt wonders why this isn't weird. He can feel the last grains of tension leave his body, sinking him further into his mattress, pleasant in a completely different way than when the weight of Blaine pushed him down last night.

It would be such a great relief if Blaine really was okay with this.

"So, I'd offer you breakfast, but I'm not quite dressed for the occasion," Kurt says testily.

Blaine lifts the covers on his side quickly.

"We might be wearing matching outfits."

"If you'd be kind enough to go momentarily blind, I'll rush through the bathroom, and I can make us some breakfast while you shower."

"I don't know if I can stomach any food, but I'd do anything for coffee."

Blaine buries his head under the pillow to temporarily lose eyesight, and Kurt slips hurriedly out of bed, tying his robe firmly around his body before picking an outfit from his wardrobe. His head pounds, he feels dizzy, thirsty, slightly nauseous, and generally overwhelmed.

He takes the quickest shower in history, but making sure to get rid of the physical remainders of last night. He brushes his teeth twice, trying to get rid of the taste of vanilla flavoured booze mixed with morning breath. It's really sickening.

After putting on his finest pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt, he lets Blaine have the bathroom, and darts upstairs.

Finn is no longer sleeping under the kitchen table, but has moved to the couch. He is still far gone, and Kurt lets him be. When Finn wakes up, they'll have to clean up. Considering the amount of mess, it can take some time. Kurt's head is not prepared for such a task yet. Lots and lots of coffee first, then maybe he'll feel human enough to be the Hudmel Maid.

* * *

When Blaine steps out of the bathroom, cleaner and fresher in an outfit similar to the one Kurt put on, the boy is already back, and Blaine feels guilty for taking so long. Kurt's not only prepared breakfast, but also made the bed and removed his clothes from yesterday that was spread on the floor.

Kurt hands him a bottle of water, two Advil, and a steaming mug, and Blaine happily accepts.

"You said you didn't want breakfast, but I made some toast. I thought I'd try to stomach it, and I have plenty for the both of us," Kurt says easily, sitting relaxed against the headboard on top of the covers.

"The shower made me feel reborn. Maybe breakfast isn't the worst idea," Blaine smiles, sitting down next to Kurt, but with some distance to maintain neutrality.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Kurt asks, and hands Blaine a plate with two slices of buttered toast.

"Sure."

"Oh good," Kurt says, presenting a remote control from next to him. "I kind of already popped the DVD in the player, hoping you'd agree."

"I think we both can need a lazy Sunday morning," Blaine laughs. "What are we watching?"

"_Morocco_. I have to admit I originally only bought it because of the scandalous kiss she gave to that woman," Kurt explains slightly embarrassed. "But I fell in love with the movie. Come on; classics like Marlene Dietrich and Clark Gable – what's there not to love?"

"Fine by me," Blaine agrees, nibbling at the toast.

The boys finish their breakfast slowly, and Blaine politely declines when Kurt offers to go upstairs to get him more coffee. The volume on the movie is set low to not irritate their headaches.

Halfway through, Kurt's fallen asleep, curled up on his side. He's rolled closer to Blaine, and his hand is resting merely inches from Blaine's hip.

Shortly after, Blaine follows him to dreamland, ending up sleeping on Kurt's arm, with the other tucked securely across Blaine's waist.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

One Direction – _What Makes You Beautiful_

Katy Perry – _I Kissed A Girl_

Scorpions – _Wind of Change_

Lena – _Satellite_


	37. Admissions

Hello my dear readers! I am finally done with my dreaded exam, and can focus more on writing my stories for a while. My next and finale exam is in May, so I can breathe with lowered shoulders and dare to look away from my books to be more in here, with my excited and faithful readers, and to admire other authors' amazing writing. Thank you for being so patient with me!

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews after my last chapter - it was quite daunting to upload that chapter, so the positive feedback really calmed me down.

You should know I let Sam be an ex-Warbler because of something he says in canon: When Quinn and he is on their date at Breadstix, she wonders if his impressions work on the girls where he came from, and he says he wouldn't know, as he's been to an all boys' school. I just knew I had to give him a Dalton history. I hope you won't hate me for what I do to him in this chapter, though... It's not necessarily deviating from canon, but it's interpreting freely...

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to let me know; I love talking with my readers!

**Warning: I haven't seen all episodes of season 4 yet, so no spoilers, please!**

And let me congratulate you with The International Woman's Day!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

The sleeping pills are at the same time both a curse and a blessing. Unlike the brand he tried at the ward in Bellefontaine, these pills make him sleep soundly, without any kind of nightmares or interruptions. He sleeps deeply, and it both troubles and comforts Kurt. It's not like he minds getting decent nights of sleep, knowing his body desperately needs the rest to recharge its worn batteries. But it bothers him that he's sleeping as deeply as he is. It takes away some of his control, he's used to wakening up if something happens around him. He still doesn't feel safe or comfortable at Dalton, and he'd like to be better able to take care of himself by being aware of his surroundings.

Luckily, Jeff had no objections when Kurt hesitantly asked if it was okay to keep their door locked during night, without any explanations. He's not sure where he stands with Jeff, but the boy seems friendly and fairly harmless, although sometimes a bit eager and impulsive in his actions. Kurt sometimes has the need to grab the boy by his shoulders and yell at him to _stop and think!_

He doesn't, obviously.

Another thing Kurt far from enjoys with the pills, is how they make him feel the next day. After the disastrous party back home, he knows pretty well how it feels to be hung over. The pills give some of the same effect, but without all the fun prior. A muffled headache seems to be churning in the back of his head for several hours before letting go, and he wakes up with sand paper for mouth, almost heaving for air. With the headache, comes also an odd sensation of weighing around 450 pounds and feet made of lead. The product leaflet says these things are normal, and sometimes you need an adjustment period before the side effects disappear.

It's not much of a comfort, when it's annoying and bothering Kurt now. He doesn't care about next week or next month, when he has to cope with _this moment_. And he knows he isn't fairing very well with this, being all grumpy and short tempered in the morning, and pretty much up until lunch. He tries to stay away from people to avoid snapping at them, because yeah – that would be all kinds of awkward. Look at the new kid, Mr. Temper Tantrum! Mr. Hissy Fit, the latest addition to the fine young men at the prestigious school Dalton Academy.

So not gonna happen.

If he seems to act as if Blaine can infect him with the plague should they make eye contact; that may be true. Kurt still needs to shake off what they did after the party, and even though it was unbelievably good – and hot – there and then, things are more awkward in a sober daylight. Luckily, Blaine seems to thrive on routines, so it's easy to stay away from his most predictable patterns during the day. With the morning sickness, non-alcoholic hangover or whatever he should call the side effects of his sleeping pills; breakfast really isn't something he can stomach. He lets Jeff finish in their bathroom, and then spends a decent amount of time getting ready for class. A long shower with scolding and freezing water to wake up, a round of concealer to hide some of the greenish taint he thinks is pestering his hue, perfecting his hair, fixing his tie twice – anything to make sure he looks more put together than he feels. It's also an efficient way to kill some time. He's tried simply sleeping longer, but it's as if the pills stop working after seven hours, prompting him to get up and greet the new day.

As Blaine is still a Junior, they don't share any classes, and it's easy to avoid the boy. With Kurt's limited schedule, he doesn't have to spend a lot of time in the buildings where classes are given either, and instead works on his homework in the library or in his room. By the time lunch is served, his stomach feels more ready to digest anything, and he makes sure to eat in due time before Blaine is out of class.

Blaine will come by his room sometimes after his last class, but quickly leaves when he notices how elusive and hesitant Kurt is to anything social or conversational. He may be cowardice, but despite how rested his body feels, he still feels mentally exhausted, and he can't deal with people right now. He's got more than enough with himself. He knows he promised Blaine they'd always be friends. He just needs some time to… friend zone him, and forget how it feels to kiss, to touch, to smell, to feel, to come.

* * *

Blaine tries to not take it personally, but it's difficult not to. For some reason Kurt's decided that Blaine doesn't exist, and if he hadn't asked Jeff, he'd have reason to believe that Kurt wasn't even at Dalton anymore.

They haven't exchanged a word since Blaine drove them back to school late Sunday evening, after nursing their hangovers and cleaning up after the party. Blaine doesn't even think he's seen Kurt in the hallways or in the common's room.

He really tries not to take it personally, but he just doesn't understand what happened or what he did wrong. Things seemed almost normal on Sunday morning, but Blaine's beginning to suspect it was a charade born out of necessity, considering they had to drive back to school together.

Wes is pretty much the best friend Blaine could have if he'd created him on his own, and quickly notices Blaine's off. He doesn't immediately pry, but is his usual calm and reassuring self. Wes and David both make sure to take care of Blaine, keeping him busy and not giving him much chance to drown himself in thoughts that'll only give him anxiety attacks or a new depression spell. Sometimes, Blaine is his own worst enemy, perfectly able to make himself sicker without noticing.

Luckily, Wes and David know him and know what signals to look for, and are there for him. He hardly spends a minute alone, and maybe it should feel like condescending baby sitting, but to Blaine it feels like comfort and love. When everything and anything is so overwhelming, it feels good to let someone else take control and help him for a while. Blaine isn't the best at asking for help, but he's really good at accepting it when it's being offered. And Blaine has the best best friends.

They keep him busy. They spend every single meal with him, engaging him in silly conversation, but there's always room for the serious and heavy topics if Blaine needs it. They make sure to walk him to classes, sitting by his side, not giving him any chance to let his mind wander between classes. Blaine is a proud, hard working student, so classes are a blessing – they give him something to pay attention to. Wes and David make sure he joins every single Warblers rehearsal that week, and they even forgo the preparations for Regionals, and instead fool around with a number just for the fun of it, where Blaine can melt his voice with the harmonies and focus on the dance steps. If there's any time left in the evenings after homework's been done and double checked, they pull out the chess board and host speed tournaments within the trio, keeping the pace so fast Blaine can hardly blink between the moves, and most certainly not dive into his own mind and the dark thoughts there.

The crucial moments are in bed just before he falls asleep and next morning when he stands silently in the shower. That's when the thoughts that are able to pinch his heart and muffle his brain manage to escape from the vault he tries to keep locked in the back of his skull.

So far, though, Wes – and sometimes David – have been able to put him back together again during breakfast.

It's Wednesday when Wes finally addresses the pink elephant. They're both in bed, in their PJs, with reading glasses on their noses and books in their laps. Blaine's reading a tattered phone book from 1992 he found in Warblers' storage room one day. It's soothing to see all the names in alphabetical order; in contrast to how chaotic and out of control he feels himself. It's also reassuring to read something that can't swipe away with his mind and hijack him to a scary place where destructive thoughts tempt him.

"What happened between Kurt and you?" Wes asks nonchalantly, pretending to be deeply engrossed in part four of Douglas Adams' trilogy _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.

Blaine lowers the book onto his lap, keeping his index finger on the third _Davis, Samuel L_ from the bottom.

"I'm not sure," he admits, talking to David Boreanaz. He'd decided to keep the poster from the boys. It wasn't the worst thing to have glued to his ceiling whenever he couldn't sleep. He'd have to follow up Kurt's suggestion to return the favour the next time he went shopping, though.

He's certain Wes' question is purely platonic. He doesn't know Kurt's gay, and for once in his life Blaine's opted out of gushing about his crush. Usually Wes would know all about Blaine's infatuations, at least the few and brief he's experienced while at Dalton. And likewise, Blaine knows everything about Wes' female preferences.

"He hasn't got any issues with you being gay, has he?" Wes asks carefully, preparing to slip into Protective Mode 2.0

"No," Blaine laughs honestly. "He's known for a while I'm gay."

Wes had already tried to find out how Kurt and Blaine knew each other, and Blaine had just shook his head, and said it wasn't his story to tell. Maybe he'd revealed more than he'd like by saying that, but Wes had dropped the issue immediately, and hadn't looked as if he even tried to connect the dots. You could say a lot about Wes' control freak issues with the Warblers, but he didn't pursue gossip and people's private business.

"Okay," Wes says, leaning back on his pillows again. "But something happened at that party."

"Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into back then," Blaine exclaims, and he knows it's a diversion, but Wes doesn't call him out on it.

"David Boreanaz?"

"Sadly, no," Blaine chuckles.

"The love of my life?"

"And who would that be?"

"Someone with boobs and personality, humour, a pretty smile, and hopefully no ring within a mile's distance," he answers ruefully

Blaine smiles sadly, thinking about the girl Wes had pursued during the entire Christmas break; a friend of the neighbour's daughter who visited. After almost a week, he discovered she was in fact engaged, but wore the ring as a necklace because of cold eczema on her hands.

"There were girls at the party, but I think most of them were taken," he says, and a cold shiver runs down his spine as he remembers how Rachel had been blatantly hitting on him, making him feel crowded and uncomfortable.

"Any cute boys for you, then?"

"Well, I'd say he's pretty cute, but he also seemed to be pretty into one of the girls. Mighty impressive mojo, considering he's been to an all boys' school for so long," Blaine grins.

"An all boys' what? Do I know him?" Wes asks eagerly, sitting up in bed.

"For 500 dollars, in the category Warblers We Love: He left suddenly and unexplainably a year ago, and is now attending McKinley High."

"Who is fucking Warbler-Sam!" Wes yells, jumping out of bed.

"It looked as if it might be Mercedes, but I believe he goes under the name Sam Evans now," Blaine chuckles. He bends over to rummage through the stack of board games under his bed, and finds what he's looking for. He makes a paper airplane of the 500 Monopoly-dollars note and sends it over to Wes.

Wes unfolds the note, kisses it, before crumbling it and throwing it in the air as he jumps into Blaine's bed.

"How is our little boy? Tell me everything!" he pleads, getting comfortable next to Blaine with his head on the boy's chest.

* * *

Even though two thirds of the Council suggested this week's detour to include Blaine and offer him a distraction, there are no doubt the Warblers all profit from it. Sebastian is on fire, suggesting both the song and choreography they can challenge themselves with. He also challenges their usual leads, and has during the week given a solid audition to the Council for that position, and the Council members have already been seen with their heads close discussing numbers for their set list at Regionals.

After drilling harmonies, choreography, beat boxing and pitch, they're finally ready for the first real run through of the song. Blaine is always integrated seamlessly among the boys, as if there's a spot just waiting for him to fill. He easily admits he has a lot of fun, and enjoys goofing around with the boys. But he doesn't feel ready to perform in front of an audience, and luckily his friends respect that and have stopped bugging him about joining.

They begin making the saxophone sounding backbeat, and Sebastian steps in front, ready to charge on the vocals.

_You make me this, Bring me up, Bring me down, Play it sweet, Make me move like a freak - Mr. Saxobeat_, he sings, sauntering around in the room.

As he begins singing, the other boys engage in the choreography Sebastian suggested and helped them develop. They've moved far from the gentle side steps, and are doing intricate moves in a rapid pace. It's a pretty sexy routine, but why not with a song like this?

_Oh, yeah, mmm yeah, mmm yeah, mmm yeah..._ they sing, stepping up in front of their "stage", and Sebastian rests in the back, catching his breath after the vigorous dance and intense singing.

The bridge is crossed, and as planned the Warblers divide like The Read Sea did for Moses, and Sebastian slides through the gap on his knees. As soon as he's in front of them he jumps up on his feet, and smirkingly dances towards Blaine.

_Hey, sexy boy, set me free, don't be so shy, play with me. My dirty boy, can't you see that you belong next to me?_

Blaine blushes and chuckles through the moves, smiling shyly at Sebastian, but focuses on getting through with his voice and moves. Stage presence is an admirable trait, and he guesses it's safe to play out the lyrics against him, as he's gay. But Blaine's pretty sure Sebastian could act like this with any of the Warblers, and they wouldn't mind. Sebastian's still a very new addition to the Warblers, but even though Blaine isn't more than an honorary member, he knows his friends and the guys.

They end the song on an all time high, cheering and congratulating each other with an awesome performance. Wes seems to be rubbing a finger surreptitiously along his eye, and Sebastian is drowning in a pile of hugging Warblers.

Thad dismisses them, and Blaine collects the sheet music from his satchel to return to the Council.

"I didn't know you could sing that well," Sebastian gushes, approaching Blaine.

He stops too close, and Blaine discreetly takes a step back, pretending to be packing his leather book bag and increasing his free, personal space.

"I hardly believe you were able to hear much," he smiles politely.

"With a voice like yours? I'd recognize it among dozens," Sebastian grins. "I don't understand why you won't join, though, you'd be a valuable asset. And it would be nice to have someone cute to serenade," he winks.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Blaine scratches the back of his neck, looking at his shoes.

Sebastian sits down on the armrest on one of the deep leather couches, and tilts his head, looking at Blaine.

"Wanna get out of here, and get to know each other better?" Sebastian wiggles his eyebrows.

"Umm, thank you for the offer, but I have some biology I need to get done by tomorrow," Blaine apologizes, not quite sure how he should interpret Sebastian's invitation.

"Biology," the other boy snorts, shaking his head in amusement.

"Are you ready to go?" Wes asks from the Council's desk, and Blaine is surprised to recognize a feeling of relief as he bids Sebastian goodbye. He usually mixes well with most people, and as Wes once teasingly called him is a people pleaser, used to figuring out what the other person wants and adjusts to accommodate for smooth interactions. But there's something about Sebastian that rubs him the wrong way, he can't deal with his aggressive approaches.

* * *

"What do you mean, when you say you want to be a swan?" Christy asks, interrupting Kurt's steadfast gaze locked on the picture behind her.

"They remind me of swans," he says in a whispered voice, nodding at the picture.

"What makes them so special?"

Kurt shifts in his chair, feeling uncomfortable, and slightly stupid. He wishes she'd ask about something else and not be so focused on his stupid dream.

She doesn't say anything, though, just looking expectantly at him. He tries to avoid her eyes, studying the picture instead, but he can feel how she's watching him.

"It's silly, really…"

"Why do you think your thoughts are silly?"

"Nobody else thinks like that," he shrugs.

"First of all, you don't know how everybody else thinks. Besides, you're not supposed to be anybody but you. Your opinions, feelings and thoughts matter."

He can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and blinks several times to prevent them, but to no avail. Slowly, one by one trickle down his cheeks.

"My mom used to read to me until I fell asleep. She had this thick book with all kinds of fables, fairytales and short stories. I still have it in my room back home."

Christy simply smiles, nodding to show she's listening, but Kurt hardly notices her. His eyes are fixed on the big painting behind her, and he can almost smell the scent of his mom and hear her voice reading to him.

"One of my favourites was _The Ugly Duckling_. I was too young to understand the symbolism, so mom would explain how you sometimes have to go through difficult times because people don't understand you. But then some day you'll wake up and realize that you've gone from misunderstood to loved, because suddenly you've grown into the swan everybody loves. It'll all be worth the pain, and it also shows that people aren't always what they seem to be."

Kurt swallows, and dabs at the tears still falling. Christy pours him a glass of water, offering it to him, and he eagerly drinks it all.

"I've been an ugly duckling for so long. When is it my turn to be the swan?" he sighs, and more tears fall. He hides his face in his hands, and curls his feet up in the chair, folding over his bent knees.

"I'm exhausted," he eventually whispers. "And I don't see what can be worth this _hurt_."

"The swan is a powerful and popular symbol, and I can understand your desire to be one. The swan is said to represent love, grace, union, purity, beauty, dreams, balance, elegance, partnership and transformation."

Kurt nods against his knees. He'd like to identify with any of those words.

"I think you're already on your way to becoming a swan," Christy says calmly, and Kurt can't but look up to meet her eyes.

"You've already passed some of the stages in your transformation. You are in a better head space now than just three months ago. You're healing."

"It doesn't feel like it," Kurt mutters.

"I won't deny it will take some time. But you have to use perspectives. You said this morning you haven't had any suicidal thoughts after you transferred. That's progress. And I'd say some of the other swan-words can be applied to you too. Dare to dream, Kurt."

Christy locks eyes with him, and he can't look away.

"I challenge you to put words to a dream for our next session. You have it in you, you just have to take the time to look for it and allow yourself to think about a future."

"It's difficult," Kurt mumbles.

"Why is that?"

"I have more than enough on my plate with the present. I don't have anything left to deal with a future, no matter how near or distant."

"I understand that. But I'd still like for you to take a time out, and spend some time imagining a dream, figuring out something you want to come true, and tell me about it next week. Okay?"

Kurt exhales slowly, deeply.

"Okay," he relents.

* * *

The garage was busy with a lot of work for Burt to catch up with after the honeymoon, so he'd suggested that Kurt stays at Dalton this weekend, and uses the opportunity to get to know his classmates. Kurt had told him he spent most afternoons with his homework to explain why he hadn't made any new friends yet, but it had only prompted his dad to make sure he socializes.

Tina had texted him to find out when he'd be back in Lima, but when Kurt explained the situation she only needed a couple of minutes to make plans, and promised to come by on Saturday.

So it's Tina Kurt expects, when somebody knocks on the door. But when he opens up, Mercedes is also there. She smiles hesitantly at him, before studying the floor. Tina sighs and rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, before inviting herself into Kurt's room. Mercedes follows silently after her.

Kurt gestures for them to sit down on the couch, and carefully taps Jeff's shoulder with one finger. The boy is bent over his books by his desk with earphones on, and didn't hear the knocking. He startles when Kurt interrupts, but smiles none the less.

"Jeff, I'd like to introduce you to somebody," he explains, gesturing at the girls.

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting visitors. How nice," Jeff beams, and offers his hand to the two ladies.

Kurt quickly introduces them. Tina; Jeff, Jeff; Tina, Mercedes; Jeff, Jeff; Mercedes. They exchange pleasantries.

"I'll go study in Nick's room, so you can have some privacy," Jeff offers.

"I didn't mean to chase you out of your room, I'm sure there's somewhere we could go," Kurt apologizes.

"Don't mention it," Jeff grins. "I really don't mind go seeing Nick," he winks, and gathers his books and binders.

As soon as the door is closed behind him, Tina opens her mouth.

"Kurt, we need to talk."

* * *

For once, Blaine is lounging in bed doing nothing important. Usually he'd hang out with his friends or kill time in the gym during weekends, but today he just feels tired and drained. Lying in bed and goofing around with the guitar seems like a much better plan than spending time with noisy boys today.

He's so lost in the melody he makes up on the go he almost misses the knock on his door.

"Enter!" he offers loudly, for once being too lazy to be polite and open the door properly.

"Sam!" He jumps up to greet his friend, and doesn't hesitate to hug him. "It's so good to see you again, come in," he encourages a smiling Sam, frantically cleaning up the room to make it more inviting. Which means he has to remove a cardigan from his office chair and the guitar from his bed.

"Tina and Mercedes wanted to visit Kurt, so I decided to tag alone. I assume you don't mind," Sam grins and plops down on top of Blaine's covers.

Blaine shakes his head amused, and sits down on the other end of the bed.

"So how are you?"

"Fine," Blaine answers automatically.

"Yeah, so Santana – remember Santana? Raging Latina?" Blaine nods and Sam continues. "Santana thought me this thing she calls a bullshit detector. And it just went off."

"The week's been difficult, but I'm coping," Blaine sighs.

Sam crosses his legs by the ankles.

"Kurt and you probably fooled most guys last weekend, them shaking it down to some drunken fooling around. Kurt's been so out of character for such a long time, no reds flags are raised anymore; they're already always waving from the top of the pole. His friends don't know how to be around him, what to expect, how to help him. They try to be supportive and understanding, without pushing him. So this week everyone has talked about how good for Kurt to finally _get some_. Do you understand what I mean?"

Blaine nods, wondering where this is going. He had been surprised by the lack of interrogation during the party, as if it was common to see Kurt this affectionate and intimate with somebody. Which Blaine knows isn't so, as he's familiar with the boy's kissing history prior to Bellefontaine. One girl and one bully.

"The thing is," Sam continues, "I know both of you, and I was the only one at the party who does."

"You seemed cosy with Mercedes," Blaine teases, trying to lead the conversation in a different direction.

"I was. We're dating now," Sam smiles bashfully, blushing slightly across his cheek bones. "But it doesn't mean I didn't notice anything around me. So what's the story between Kurt and you?"

"It's a pretty short story. Maybe just a haiku," Blaine shrugs.

"You like him," Sam states bluntly.

"I do. I… I really like him."

"And he likes you," Sam says equally blunt.

"I hope he does?"

"You asking me?" Sam laughs. "OK, I'd say he has to like you at some level. He's not one to fool around with anyone. He seems to trust you and let you in both quicker and closer than anyone else. He's keeping the rest of us on a distance. I've seen how he's changed during the year I've known him. Did you know Mercedes and he used to be best friends, and now they hardly talk? She's so worried about him, and really struggles with all of this, but so far hasn't been able to talk with him like they used to."

"I'm sorry he's withdrawn like that, it can't be easy for you to see a friend in pain who is also avoiding you."

"And still he's let you in close. That should tell you something."

"I think I can question how close we really are. I've hardly seen him after the party. Besides, he's not out here, so it's not like anything could really happen between the two of us," Blaine sighs sadly. Sometimes he's all optimistic and patient, confident Kurt will come out anytime soon and he can ask him out. Other times he feels kind of heartbroken and helpless.

"Has he told you anything from McKinley?"

"Yeah, we've bonded over shared backgrounds and struggles."

"Can you blame him for not coming out in a school filled with strangers, with his experiences?"

"But we have the anti bullying zero tolerance-policy," Blaine whines.

"And you expect him to trust a piece of paper before he sees it's actually respected?"

Blaine doesn't answer that.

"I may have been your roomie for only six months, but I think we got pretty close during that semester. And I remember how far in your shell you were, and how long it took for you to open up about _anything_, not to mention your sexuality." Sam looks pointedly at him.

"I guess I forgot about that," Blaine admits. "I feel so comfortable here now."

"Give Kurt time. Give him a chance to settle down. And, just so you know, you have my blessings. Kurt is a pretty boy, you know, he has a beautiful soul he reveals in only short glimpses at the moment, and he's a really cool guy when he's on top of his game. And you know I love you, bro, so I think you could be good for each other."

"Thank you. I think," Blaine says questioningly, scratching the back of his head and looking amused.

"Did I tell you about the time we were supposed to duet together?"

Blaine shakes his head.

"Some of our well meaning, but misguiding, friends warned him against it, said it would make me a target for the bullies and chase me away from Glee club. And he actually withdrew from the duet, giving me a chance to perform with someone else, keeping me safe. So I sang with a girl, knowing McKinley was a far step from Dalton. Later I figured out he'd had a crush on me. I wish I knew earlier, he's so precious. But he had already begun to reign in on himself, too used to rejection and hate."

"You liked him," Blaine teases, bumping his shoulder against Sam's.

"Well duh. Have you met him?"

Blaine raises his eyebrows and just looks at his old roommate.

"So you know what I mean," Sam smiles bashfully. "Be good to him. Be patient with him. You'll have to work hard to get him out of his shell, but he's worth it."

* * *

"What do you mean, we have to talk? What's wrong?"

"We're worried about you, and we have things we need to air."

"OK," Kurt says confused. He takes one of his pillows to sit on on the floor, curling up pretzel style with a wool blanket around him. The girls are sitting on the couch across of him, with the low coffee table between them.

"Sorry, I'm feeling a bit cold today," he apologizes, waving with the blanket where his hands are clutching to it. "What makes you worry?"

"Remember we talked about Blaine when you were in the hospital?" Tina asks.

"No, not really," Kurt says, feeling defensive.

"Mercy and I talked with him when we visited, while you were asleep."

Mercedes nods to show her support of the story.

"We spoke on the phone after we won Sectionals, and I said I didn't like you rooming with Blaine."

"I don't have any memory of that," Kurt says, not making any effort to rummage his mind to see if he can remember.

"I don't like Blaine; I don't trust him. Neither of us does," Tina says, nodding at Mercedes.

"Why not?" Kurt is honestly curious, because Blaine seems as a very likeable boy, and Kurt can't pinpoint anything that would make people dislike him – except for his sexuality, but he _knows_ that isn't an issue for his friends.

"He seems so fake. You must have noticed how polished he is, and how he seems to slip between personalities."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"OK, examples," Tina sighs, clearly frustrated by Kurt's lack of understanding and sharing her view on the boy. "When we talked in the hospital, he was so stiff and old fashioned polite, like he was putting on a show for us. It was really odd and disturbing. Then at the party he acted all shy, but charming, following you like an annoying puppy and trying to impress us. But suddenly later on he was all Don Juan down your throat, touchy-feely the rest of the night, cutely and sweetly. Ugh, I don't trust him. I'm worried he's not safe for you. We know something's wrong with him; we know he was in that mental ward. Is he a schizophrenic? Can his personality changes be a danger for you?"

Tina takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Are you done?" Kurt asks calmly, and Tina nods. "Do you have anything to add?" he asks Mercedes.

"Not for now," she says to her purple boots.

"If there's something _wrong_ with Blaine, as you so eloquently put it, then there's something wrong with me too. What Blaine struggles with, is his business, and I'm not going to betray his trust. But you might try to see things from Blaine's point of view. He meets some strangers – you, of course he'll be polite and awkward, trying to figure out who you are and how to be around you, as he expected to talk books with me, not run into two unfamiliar faces. Then he joins me at the party, and of course I gave him the tour to introduce him to everybody. Blaine is a polite boy, unlike most male specimen at McKinley, but if you talked with some of the boys here at Dalton, you'd see they all have manners. Being different doesn't mean you're _wrong_," he snorts. "And for the rest of the night? We both got drunk, and it's not like you weren't deep throating your boys either."

"Umm, you know deep throating is something else?" Mercedes asks hesitantly.

"So does that mean he's your boy, then?" Tina asks suspiciously.

"No, he's not _my boy_," Kurt glares, waving off Mercedes' comment. "We had too much to drink, and it's not like there's a surplus of gay boys to let your alcoholic hormones out with. He's a good friend and we got carried away," Kurt explains, trying not to think about the night afterwards.

"So he isn't taking advantage of you? Stringing you on? Two-facing you?"

"I'm a big boy who can take care of himself."

The look Tina gives him shows clearly how much she doubts that statement.

"If nothing ever happens between us, how can he be taking advantage of me?"

"I'm just worried, that's all."

"Why can't you get to know him for real before you judge him? New Directions used to be a place for all the square pegs who got dealt a round hole to navigate in. Why are you suddenly so judgmental of him?"

"He's not one of ours," Tina says shortly.

"No, he'd never join if he was a student at McKinley, with your attitude."

"You're one of us, and he seemed like a threat, and we feel protective of you," Tina sighs. Mercedes has been oddly silent for most of the conversation.

"I guess we could give him a chance. It's not like you to make new friends that easily. He already seems to be closer to you than some of us are," she says sadly.

"We have a lot in common and understand each other," Kurt shrugs defensively.

"We're glad you're making friends here. But we miss you too."

"I'm right here," Kurt objects.

"No, you're not. You avoid us and have retreated to some shell," Tina corrects him.

"But I'm not the only one who's changed," he looks pointedly at Mercedes.

"It's been hard," Mercedes whispers.

Kurt nods to encourage her. Maybe there is more talk that needs to be done today.

"It's painful to know how depressed you've been, and it's plain torture to admit I didn't see it in time. I'm so, so sorry for not being a good friend," Mercedes chokes, tears threatening to leap over the overloaded brims of her eyes.

"'Cedes…" Kurt whispers breathlessly, crawling up from his position on the floor. He sits down on the couch, leaving Mercedes between him and Tina. "You are a very good friend; I'm the one who hasn't been easy to deal with."

"I feel so guilty," the girl sobs, her tear finally falling. "I should have known how serious it was, I should have been able to help you, I should have been there for you, maybe we could have avoided everything," she sobs, gesturing around as if Kurt's room at Dalton represents everything that's been going on for the last half year. And in some ways, it does.

Kurt wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest.

"Sweetie, I don't think there's anything anyone could have done. I'd spiralled down too far too fast, and was beyond help. I had given up. I'm just stating facts here, but there was nothing anyone of you could have done. I'm in therapy, seeing a professional, and still feel like shit. How were you supposed to perform miracles on me?"

Mercedes shivers in his arms, and Tina embraces her from next to her.

"I'll be better, but I need my friends," Kurt whispers. He highly doubts how much better he can be; things still look pretty dark. But he can admit to needing his friends, they do make for excellent distractions.

* * *

Blaine escorts Sam to the common's room. He was a sophomore the last time he was here, so he was living downstairs, and hasn't actually been on this floor before.

"Sam? Is that really Sam?"

"Sam My Man, we've missed you!"

"Do Sean Connery, you have to do Connery!"

* * *

"Your girls have left?" Jeff peaks in through the door crack.

"Yeah, they have quite a drive back home."

Jeff nods and slips in, slumping down on his bed.

"You okay?" Kurt asks hesitantly, subtly looking at the boy from the corner of his eyes, noticing how tired he looks."

"Nick's been helping me with homework, so my brain is all but fried."

"All day?"

"I had a lot to catch up with," Jeff shrugs.

It doesn't make much sense to Kurt. Jeff spends almost all of his free time with his books, he's the most diligent and devoted student he's seen in a while. Even though Kurt has a lot to catch up with, he still takes his time to read fiction, watch a DVD, text his Lima friends or just relax. While Jeff is either in class, with the Warblers, or doing homework. Even when he's spending time with Nick, they can often be seen studying together. Maybe he's easily distracted and forgets to focus. Although that doesn't explain how he's able to take all the notes from what he reads. Huh. Oh well, it has nothing to do with Kurt.

"So, was one of them your girlfriend?" Jeff asks, skipping to a new topic.

The question startles Kurt. He can't remember the last time anyone assumed he could be straight. Although he's been flying low and dodging the radar, he's also assumed he'd be confronted with his sexuality sooner or later, probably sooner. He didn't expect it to happen like this, though.

"Umm… No… No, they're old friends from school," Kurt says evasively, and cringes at how secretive he sounds.

"That's nice of them to visit you like that. Nick and I actually met an old friend out in the common's room earlier; he was here on a surprise visit."

"That's nice," Kurt murmurs.

"He transferred a year ago, and we've missed him like crazy, but lost touch when we didn't know where he went. But he told us he only lives two hours away, and came with some of his new classmates who wanted to visit a friend of theirs… Oh!"

"Was Sam here?" Kurt asks easily, but with some eagerness.

"You know Sam!" Jeff beams.

"That I do."

"He told us he had a girlfriend, she must have been one of the girls visiting you. Good for him, the dating pool at Dalton isn't exactly good. Unless you're into boys too," Jeff adds as if in afterthought. "Do you have a special sweetheart in your life? The boys here aren't eunuchs, we do have a sister school we often party with."

Kurt swallows, knowing this is one of those possibilities where he can easily come out. And it shouldn't be that scary to come out to Jeff, who's dating Nick. But he just can't. He doesn't trust Jeff enough.

"No, not seeing anyone," he says, knowing he isn't lying, but feeling he's hovering in a sexuality limbo.

* * *

Sunday finds Kurt wandering the premises of Dalton, not really taking in the surroundings. The fresh, cold January air is refreshing, though, after too many days hauled up in classrooms, the library or the room he shares with Jeff. He needs oxygen to his brain. He needs to power walk so fast he can't think about anything, just focusing on moving one foot in front of the other, hopefully avoiding the biggest puddles of slush or specks of polished ice.

He can't run away from the aftermath of the visitors he had last day, though. He's not concerned about what Tina said. He trusts Blaine, and she'll simply have to give him a chance and pull back her Mama Bear Claws. It's Mercedes' hurt and guilt that have him baffled. He never expected or predicted any of his friends feeling like that. He knows it's been rough on his dad, but that's his _parent_. And of course it's affected Carole, to see the man she loves in that kind of distress. And he knows Finn has needed some readjustments to figure out his new place in all of this. But he honestly thought he'd pushed away his friends sufficiently for them to not be so affected by his issues and actions. He's felt so lonely and miserable in school, and abandoned his friends hoping it'd give him less grief from the jocks, less connection to everything they detest and sanction. He assumed his friends would forget about him, but clearly it's not the case. Knowing he may still have some of them within reach is both scary and uplifting.

It's something he'll need some time to digest and fully take in.

* * *

As soon as he's arrives the floor of the upperclassmen, he's accosted by Jeff and Nick. He can see Jeff's hands twitching, as if he's preventing himself from reaching out to grab his hand.

"Come join us for a movie marathon," they offer.

Kurt knows he can decline, retreat to his room and do something else, on his own. But Jeff looks so hopeful, and Kurt's revelations during his walk about how he might need – and want – friends are the finale grain that tips the scale in favour of joining the boys. He doesn't know which movies they are watching, but he really doesn't care.

He follows after the couple, and he realizes he'd forgotten to calculate Blaine in the equation when his eyes land on the boy. Their eyes meet, but then Blaine ducks his head, worrying his bottom lip, looking uncomfortable. _Shit._ Kurt never meant to hurt Blaine; he just didn't know how to deal with what happened, and gave himself a time out to digest. He was so immersed in himself, he forgot to consider how others might react.

Hesitantly, he walks towards Blaine.

"Hi…" he mumbles. "I'm sorry for avoiding you, but I needed some time alone in my head."

Blaine looks surprised by his admission, but gives him a half smile.

"It's okay," he shrugs.

"No, it was not okay," Kurt insists, not wanting to let Blaine brush this off. "I've been a terrible friend, letting my mind take control of me like that."

"I understand," Blaine says softly, and that Kurt can believe and accept. Sometimes it's like the depression casts a spell on you, leaving you immobile and incapable of independent thinking.

"Do you want to sit down?" he pats the seat next to him.

"If you want me to sit with you," Kurt says carefully.

"Of course," Blaine scoffs.

So Kurt sits down daintily next to him, sitting primly and with a safe distance to Blaine. They don't talk much, but the atmosphere between them is pretty relaxed and enjoyable, as they laugh at the same jokes, and look at each other knowingly when Orlando Bloom looks especially pleasing. Halfway through _Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest_, Blaine's fallen asleep, head resting awkwardly tilted upward along Kurt's arm.

Kurt wonders for a while what to do, before deciding to help Blaine into a more comfortable position. He supports his body with his left arm, while manoeuvring his right arm out from under Blaine, and instead wrapping it around him, so he can rest solid and comfortably against Kurt's chest. In his sleep, Blaine snuggles closer, putting an arm to rest across Kurt's stomach.

He tenses somewhat, wondering how the other boys might react. But they already know Blaine's gay, and don't seem to have issues with it. So Blaine should probably still be safe – he's charming, polite, kind and charismatic; of course he's a popular student at Dalton, of course they won't arrest him for being gay when he's otherwise so damn _likeable_.

Kurt lets the third movie capture his attention, and absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down Blaine's arm, brushing softly. Blaine snuggles his head further into Kurt's chest, so he takes it as encouragement and doesn't cease the movements.

As far as Kurt knows, all the boys are busy watching the movie, hollering each time Keira Knightley graces the screen and stuffing their faces with popcorn and snacks. Nobody seems to be bothered by them. Nick and Jeff are cuddled up in a big armchair, and Wes is resting his head on a pillow in David's lap.

In a darker corner in the far back of the room, there was an empty armchair when Kurt arrived. While he was busy apologizing to Blaine, he didn't notice the tall, brown haired transfer student slide in and getting comfortable. For all the censors and eyes in the back of his head Kurt's developed to increase his security and personal space, he however completely misses the curious frown Sebastian is giving him and Blaine cuddled up in his arms.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Alexandra Stan – _Mr. Saxobeat_


	38. Troubling Numbers

**AN: Here we are again - I purposely delayed this update, as I wanted it to be a birthday gift for one of my faithful readers and reviewers: I hope your day is amazing, LvSammy!**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews and feedback, it makes me a better writer and a happier human being.**

**Remember: I haven't watched everything in Season 4 yet, so please please no spoilers!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, but enjoy playing with them.**

* * *

Starting the day – and the week – with two lessons of math back to back isn't exactly Kurt's dream scenario, but at least then he's done with it for some time. Mrs. Lee is quite unforgiving and ruthless, handing out their math test from last week first thing without any encouraging words or warning.

Kurt knows he didn't do up to his usual standards. Rather, he knows he really struggled with the test, and has to put a lot of effort in catching up before the semester ends and his finale math grading will be given. Of course he can always do the class over again next year, but that wasn't exactly the point of splitting the rest of his senior year up in three semesters.

He tries to school his face into something neutral or nonchalant, not drawing attention to himself from neither teacher nor students, but facing the mocking red D is still not something he could have prepared himself for. Kurt Hummel has never received a D before! He inhales sharply, hissing loud enough for Henry to look worriedly at him. The towering muscle monster who sat next to him in his first math lesson has continued sitting in that seat.

Kurt avoids the boy's eyes, afraid of drawing attention to himself and the consequences that may follow. Henry looks like bad news. Henry looks like everything Kurt's learned to fear. He folds the test in two and tucks it firmly into his bag, breathing calmly. This is not the end of the world. He still has time to improve. Besides, it's not like he has any plans for after graduation; maybe good grades won't be a necessity. His dad most certainly won't ask for any of those before pitifully offering Kurt a job in the garage.

Kurt's so distracted from his disappointment and musings about his future, he doesn't notice how time flies away, and soon their teacher dismisses them for a short break.

Trevor immediately turns around to face Kurt, Thad not far after.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and both boys are sporting open, friendly expressions.

"Of course," Kurt reassures them.

"You just seem upset," Trevor insists.

"I'll do better next time," Kurt plasters on a smile.

"You hadn't covered these chapters in your old school?"

"No," Kurt answers truthfully. He's not covered a lot of the math curriculum during his senior year so far, either not being in class physically or not being there consciously.

"Would you be interested in a study group?" Trevor offers, quickly glancing at Thad who nods.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Kurt smiles disarmingly.

"It's not a problem," Thad says. "We often meet up to prepare for tests or do homework together, and we'd be happy to include you."

Kurt worries his lower lip. These boys are probably really good in math, getting A's all over the place, and why would they bother with someone like him; mathematically underdeveloped?

Mrs. Lee begins teaching the next lesson before Kurt can give them his polite _thank you, but no thank you_. He pays carefully attention to everything she says, taking notes, doing the equations, and internally groaning for each wrong answer he gets.

45 minutes later the decision is pretty simple. He'll have to give the boy a chance.

"Umm… If the offer still stands…" He hesitates as they pack their belongings.

"Of course," Trevor interrupts, smiling as if he's honestly glad to be tutoring Kurt in math.

"Thank you," Kurt sighs, feeling resigned, but hoping this can actually help him, hopefully quickly so he doesn't have to bother him for long.

"I'll book one of the study rooms in the dormitory for us. Is eight o' clock okay for you?"

"Sure," Kurt says, dumbstruck by the boy's eagerness, he expected them to meet up some time next week or the week after, or whenever Trevor felt bored enough to deal with him.

"You have my number in your information folder from Principal Morris, as I'm a prefect. If you give me your number I can text you if there are changes to our plans."

Trevor hands him his phone, and Kurt saves his contact information. The other boy smiles when he gets the phone back.

"It's me," he says when Kurt rummages his pocket for the vibrating phone. "Now I know for sure you have my number. See you later!" he grins, and walks briskly off to his next class.

* * *

"You never told me about your boyfriend," Sebastian playfully complains before the Council can summon rehearsal.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Blaine answers confused.

"You could have fooled me. You looked really cutesy last night," Sebastian smirks.

"Oh, that? No, I was tired and fell asleep; he must have been comfortable to rest on," Blaine says, carefully choosing his words to keep Kurt's secret out of this.

"Comfortable?" Sebastian snorts. "That bony Road Runner? Oh well, maybe you sleep on a bed of nails? Kinky!" Sebastian grins.

"I beg your pardon?" Blaine chokes, hardly believing his ears.

"I wouldn't mind if you'd like to beg for it. Mmm, that innocent school boy-look, it's even better than a feisty librarians. I wonder what you're hiding underneath that blazer," the boy winks, sizing Blaine up and down.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested," Blaine squirms under his intense gaze.

"I got the impression you're single, sexy."

"I am," Blaine blushes.

"Then what's the problem? Jesus, Blaine, it's not as if I'm proposing here. I just thought we could have some _fun_," Sebastian drawls.

"I'm really not a 'fun' guy," Blaine cringes.

"You're a teenager; of course fun is your thing," Sebastian scoffs. "But okay, I get it. You need wooing. That's okay; the chase is half the fun, after all. Let me guess…" Sebastian takes a step back, and slowly lets his intense eyes wander over the boy, head to toes. Blaine feels undressed.

"I bet you're totally into all that Valentine's Day-shit, aren't you?

"You're wasting your time, Sebastian," Blaine sighs, and leaves him.

* * *

Blaine still feels hesitant and insecure, not quite knowing where he stands with Kurt. He doesn't want to make Kurt uncomfortable, so he kind of avoids him during the day. Reassured by their fumbling reconnection last night, Blaine hazards approaching Kurt after dinner, though.

"Hey," he says shyly.

"Hello Blaine," Kurt gives him the same shy smile.

"Would you like to… do something? With me?" Oh, and Blaine blushes, 'cause didn't that sound like a hint at something much more than Blaine was imagining? It most certainly didn't sound like the movie or walk around campus Blaine was thinking about.

Kurt quickly checks his phone, and smiles more sincerely at Blaine.

"Yeah, I'd love to!" Kurt gathers his stuff and they leave the dining hall.

"Do you have anywhere you need to be?" Blaine says while rummaging his brain for small talk. Which is quite disturbingly, because their conversations have always been easy and flowing.

"I have a study group in an hour," Kurt reveals. "Math, with Trevor," he adds when Blaine looks questioningly at him.

"No Thad?"

"I… I don't know, should he be there?"

"Trevor and Thad are best friends and often study together, so I just assumed they'd both be present," Blaine shrugs.

"Oh my God," Kurt whispers, swiping his key card to access the dorm building. "I didn't even consider it, but come to think about it they were both there when Trevor asked."

"You'd want to be alone with Trevor?" Blaine whispers, maintaining discretion as they climb up the stairs to his room.

"Yes," Kurt exhales, and something cracks in Blaine's chest. Trevor is as straight as they come, but the heart still knows what the heart wants.

"I see…"

"I'm glad you understand," Kurt murmurs. "It's difficult, sometimes. No, it's difficult all the time," he quickly corrects himself. "So it's nice to know I'm not alone, that you can relate."

"I guess I can," Blaine agrees. The experience with unrequited crushes seems closer than ever. "Take a seat," he offers as they enter his room, gesturing for the couch. He hurries over to pick up his guitar, so Kurt can sit down.

"I don't think I remember _Let It Be_ anymore," Kurt muses, narrowing his eyes on the guitar.

"I'm devastated," Blaine sighs. "I was so sure my guitar teaching skills were remarkable."

"Oh, they are," Kurt smiles wickedly. "But this student sucks, and hasn't got his own guitar to practice with."

"I guess I could be persuaded to let you touch my precious," Blaine teases, mentally kicking himself for acting like this around Kurt. Kurt doesn't want him.

Kurt obviously doesn't catch the innuendo he slipped, but reaches out a hand and takes the guitar from Blaine's loose grip. He sits with his legs pretzel style, and gently fondles the guitar as if he's getting acquainted with it again. Blaine sits down on the far end, feet planted on the couch and arms wrapped around his knees. He watches Kurt's long finger caressing the long neck hesitantly, but growing more and more confident, finding the positions and conquering the instrument. Not before long, he jerkily and a bit staccato plays through the verse and chorus of the song. A fair amount of mishaps, but still decently performed considering how little practice he has and how long it's been since he's seen a guitar.

Kurt plays through the verse once more, and looks at him with such pride it makes Blaine's heart skip a beat.

"You sound like a pro," Blaine grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

"And you sound like you're full of bullshit," Kurt grins.

"Who's the musician here?"

"According to you, it's me," Kurt grins smugly.

"I've created a monster," Blaine shakes his head in regret, but can't help the fond tint to his voice.

They spend the next half hour goofing around with the guitar. Blaine guides him through it, taking it slow to make sure Kurt is in control of both his fingers and the strings before moving on.

As the time is drawing nearer to eight, Kurt seems to be less focused, easily distracted and fidgeting.

"Do your fingers hurt?"

"Huh?" Kurt watches his red finger tips. "Maybe a little? Why?"

"You just seem… bored with the guitar."

"No, Blaine, I'm just…" Kurt stumbles through his reassurance, but carefully lowers the guitar on the small coffee table in front of them.

"You can tell my anything," Blaine promises.

"Thank you," Kurt briefly smiles, quickly lifting his eyes to look at him, before studying the hands in his lap again. "I'm just nervous about the math tutoring," he finally admits.

"Ah," Blaine hums knowingly.

"I don't know him. Or them. I wouldn't know what to talk about. Or how to act around them."

"Just be yourself, Kurt. You're a really great guy."

Kurt smiles timidly at him.

"But what if they realize how weird I am? Or what if they realize I'm gay?" Kurt whispers frantically. "What if I don't understand their jokes and seem stupid? What if I insult them in some way?"

"Kurt…" Blaine scoots somewhat closer. "You're there to work on your math, nobody expects anything from you."

"Oh God, they're going to discover how terrible I am with numbers, and they're going to think that I'm an imbecile, and they'll wonder what the hell I'm doing here, or maybe tell the principal to make me a Junior so I'll be yet a year delayed for graduation. And I'll be one of those losers who get their high school diploma at the same time as their children. And Trevor and Thad's kids will know everything about me, and they'll think I'm just as stupid and weird as their fathers thought."

"Kurt!" Blaine shouts, after trying several times to cut through Kurt's ramblings. The boy startles, but shuts up, just looking at him. "I get it," he says soothingly, hesitantly wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders. "I understand how you feel. But you'll be fine."

"I'm scared," Kurt easily admits, snuggling into Blaine's embrace.

"Both Trevor and Thad are really great guys. You have nothing to fear. I know them both pretty well, and none of them are homophobic. They are easy going boys," Blaine shares, and Kurt snuggles even closer, his head resting on Blaine's shoulder. "You already know Trevor is a prefect, and he's used to help students. He goes along with all kinds of people, and is a really kind hearted guy. His guilty pleasure is Pokémon."

Blaine absentmindedly runs a hand up and down Kurt's arm.

"I know Thad from the Warblers, and he's popular among the guys. He's good at listening, and charms most people with his laidback gentleness. And he's a huge fan of The Beatles."

"Thank you," Kurt says softly against his neck, his breath tickling Blaine's skin.

"Always," Blaine leans down and kisses Kurt's forehead without thinking.

"I don't like being this scared and awkward."

"I know, I really do."

"That's what I really like about you. It's safe and comforting, knowing you understand what goes on," Kurt says, gesturing at his head in a swirling motion with his index finger. He looks at Blaine with big eyes, looking so sad and resigned.

"I know what you mean, and I feel the same. But don't forget that I have several good friends here, who accept me for who I am. They could be your friends too," Blaine says, trying to sound confident and comforting, without patronizing or belittling Kurt's insecurities.

"I hear what you say. It's just as if my mind doesn't understand the words. I'm really nervous about the study group," Kurt admits. "Can you feel it?" he takes Blaine's hand and places it on his own chest. And Blaine _can_ feel Kurt's heart beating rapidly.

There's really nothing Blaine can say, so he just holds the boy close. That's what he'd want if the roles were reversed.

"Thank you," Kurt exhales, and as he stretches his neck towards Blaine, Blaine turns his head to answer, and Kurt's lips brushes against his own lips.

He inhales sharply, and Kurt freezes, their lips separating a few inches. For a second.

"Kurt!" Blaine exhales, and they crash together. Blaine doesn't know how it happens, but finds one of his hands clutching at Kurt's hair on the back of his head, the other still resting over his heart.

Kurt cups his cheek with one hand, the other hand curling around the hem of Blaine's cardigan.

He still tastes faintly of cherries from dessert, his hand is firm but gentle on Blaine's skin, and his lips are soft and pliant. When Kurt hums into the kiss, Blaine almost moans.

Blaine can't be sure if it's him pushing or if Kurt leans back on his own accord, but no matter what he finds the other boy on his back, and Blaine resting heavily on top of him.

"Is this okay?" he asks, hardly breaking the kiss.

"Yeah," Kurt exhales, hands moving to his shoulder blades.

"Good," Blaine smiles, feeling relieved and giddy, and dares to deepen the kiss. Kurt responds eagerly.

They're interrupted by Kurt's phone alerting them of a new text. Blaine lifts his body so Kurt can get to his pockets.

"Ups," he says in the cutest tone, blushing and smiling like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and their mouth already stuffed with several cookies. "I'm late; Trevor's waiting for me."

Blaine scoots off of Kurt, so he can get up and leave for his math study group.

"Thank you for keeping me distracted so I forgot to be nervous," he murmurs as he slips out of the room.

As soon as the door is closed, Blaine throws himself face down on the couch. What was that?

* * *

Kurt berates himself for not paying attention to the time and keeping the kind boy who's offered to help him waiting. He should have set an alarm on his phone; lateness and tardiness like this are unforgiveable.

He knocks twice on the right door, before yanking it open, apologies already streaming out of his mouth.

"I'm so, so sorry, I completely lost track of time," he gasps after the quick run, but freezes as he sees who's in the room. Trevor is not alone. Thad is there with him. But so is also Henry. Kurt pales.

* * *

Nick and Jeff have abandoned going through Jeff's essay for their philosophy class due in two days. As usual, Nick's written one of their codes in purple in the margin, to let Jeff know how he could and should improve the text, before Nick gives it another read through tomorrow.

Jeff is struggling particularly much today, and not even his glasses could help him focus, so they've decided to call it a night, and cuddle in Jeff's bed. Kurt isn't in the room, which is a bit odd; he's usually always there, especially after the library is closed. But maybe he's with Blaine. Both Nick and Jeff saw how Blaine slept in Kurt's arms last night. Dalton is a small school, everything is noticed by someone, and considering how firm attention Nick's paid to Blaine and Kurt, he could write pretty detailed reports for Dalton's intelligence bureau. If there was one. Nick isn't the only one who noticed how comfortable the timid and evasive Kurt was with the kind-but-I'll-still-keep-you-on-an-arm's-length Blaine, and how mutual it was. Then it seemed as if they had a fight during Kurt's party, and the boys avoided each other for a week. But yesterday Kurt reached out an arm, and let Blaine sleep in it.

Nick is curious about Kurt. The boy's been a student at Dalton for three weeks now, and still they really don't know anything about him. Bonding and oversharing are two common traits among the boarders, so the mystery surrounding Kurt is intriguing and consuming. Nick runs a gentle hand up and down Jeff's spine as they lay in comfortable silence, just resting in bed.

When they helped Kurt move in, he'd seem shy, but still alive; asking questions, talking somewhat, interacting with his father, and showing interest in his surroundings. But as soon as Mr. Hummel left, it was as if he took a part of Kurt with him.

The Kurt they're left with, seems tense and uncomfortable, walking quickly down the hallways, ducking or skirting around people as if he's avoiding them or afraid of crowding their space, keeping to himself and is mostly seen in the library or in his room. The day he came it's as if he put on a mask, acted a part, and crumbled as soon as Mr. Hummel left. Kurt's brave face disappeared, and he retreated back to a silent shell.

Kurt isn't the most verbose, Nick's discovered. At least not with them, but he assumes he must be talking with Blaine considering how much time they spend together. But even if Blaine is with them, Kurt really only speaks when addressed directly, and he keeps it short and precise, not inviting for further conversation and follow-up questions.

Nick can't be offended, though. He knows it makes Jeff sad, because he's eager to make good with his new roommate, and bond for what can be an epic friendship. But sometimes his boyfriend can be a tad naïve and optimistic, and in his eagerness he tends to forget to be considerate and look for the nuances. Just because Jeff intensely wants to be Kurt's friend, doesn't mean Kurt is ready to be his friend.

Jeff is bubbly and has the biggest heart Nick knows, but he can also be shortsighted and oblivious. He sees things in plain sight, but he's not always the best at reading between the lines. Nick clearly remembers when he tried to find out if the boy would be interested in anything more between them. Jeff simply doesn't take hints. And he can even overlook what's written in plain sight, usually sitting tense and rigid by his desk in Jeff's room. Nick wonders if Kurt acts differently when he's alone with Jeff.

"No, he's mostly the same. Sometimes he asks a neutral question or comments on something harmless, but it feels as if he does so merely to break the awkward silence; not because he wants to talk with me," Jeff says sadly. "I try to find topics he'd like, but I don't know what his interests are. I don't know anything about him. Would it be wrong to ask Blaine?"

"Blaine would never betray anyone's trust if they've confided in him," Nick answers. "And I don't know if he'd feel comfortable sharing information about a person eve if it couldn't be considered secrets. I think it'd be better for all of us to avoid putting Blaine in that position, and hope that Kurt will talk eventually."

"I wonder how they know each other… They're so different, and still seem really close."

"Of course they are close. This is Blaine we're talking about. You saw how he cuddled in his sleep with Kurt last night?"

"So we know he's not a homophobe, fortunately. And he told me he's single."

"I'd say we're getting close to writing his biography," Nick smirks, punching his boyfriend playfully.

"Brat!" Jeff whines.

"But you love me," Nick drawls smugly.

"Yeah, yeah… Oh, remember that first night after winter break? Kurt was surprised to see Blaine, because he thought he lived in LA. Maybe Kurt's a friend from Cali Blaine sees whenever he visits his family?" Jeff suggests.

"If he's an LA-friend he ought to know the boy doesn't live there, right? Besides, isn't he a bit pale to be from California?"

"Isn't Blaine a bit tan to be from Ohio?" Jeff parries.

"You're right. Do you think he's an ex?" Nick wonders.

"Have we ever heard Blaine talk about any exes?"

"You're right, Jeff. Again," Nick sighs exaggeratedly, but pecks his boyfriend on the lips.

The two boys continue to discuss how Blaine and Kurt may have met. They suggest childhood friend, a classmate from his last school, a cousin, a secret lover, or an adopted brother. No suggestion any more serious or believable than the other, in their opinion.

* * *

"Have a seat, Kurt!" Trevor encourages, pulling out the chair next to him. Thad and Henry are sitting across of him, Henry directly in front of the chair Trevor offers Kurt.

Kurt hesitantly crosses the threshold.

"I know I'm late, and you probably already started, so I can just leave instead of interrupting you," he suggests, not able to hide a subtle hopefulness in his voice.

"Don't be silly; we don't mind helping you. Besides, we've been too busy discussing _The Big Bang Theory_ to do any math yet. Hopefully you can straighten us up and make sure we actually get something done," Thad explains.

Henry snorts, mumbling something that sounds like "straightening us up" under his breath.

"Okay," Kurt relents, warily approaching the table. He pulls out books, binder and his pencils.

"So Kurt, which chapters did you cover in your former school?" Henry asks.

"Umm…" Kurt flips through the pages. Nothing really seems familiar.

"Did you perhaps use another book?" Trevor suggests kindly.

"No, it's the same, I recognize the cover," Kurt says, too late realizing how lame that sounds.

"Do you recognize anything from between the covers?" Henry asks teasingly, making Kurt feel really, really stupid.

"I guess… Chapter one?" Kurt ducks his head, not willing to see what must be patronizing and mocking faces on the three boys.

"Okay, but what if we just start from the beginning, to make sure you get it all?" Trevor says easily, smiling.

"I'm not stupid!" Kurt blurts out.

"We don't think you are," Thad reassures him. "Everybody has something they're not so good at. I suck at writing short stories for English."

"I burn the food more often than not in home ec.," Trevor shrugs, looking expectantly at Henry.

"No, I'm just grand at anything," Henry laughs, earning a fist to his shoulder from Thad. "Child abuser!"

"Don't be a moron. You're not a child. This is regular violence," Thad smirks, smacking Henry in the back of his head.

"So! Chapter one?" Trevor says loud enough to drown out the bickering boys.

Kurt flicks to the right page, and soon after Thad and Henry do the same.

"Geometry, you're our expert there, Trevor. Will you do the honour?"

"Gladly, sir. So Kurt, tell me what you already know about this."

* * *

For the next days, Blaine avoids Warblers' rehearsal. Sebastian is making him feel rather uncomfortable, and it feels as if the boy is actively seeking him out in the hallways, winking at him as they pass each other, and even though they don't share any classes he manages to seek him out outside several of his classrooms and by his locker. It's rather disturbing. So Blaine chooses to skip Warblers, to get some time away from the boy.

While dealing with Sebastian, Blaine is also giving Kurt a lot of thought. He's not sure what happened on Monday. The party can be explained with alcohol. But neither had any on Monday, obviously.

Kurt and Blaine have begun spending time together again, sitting by the same table during dinner and hanging out to do homework or have fun with the guitar before Kurt's now daily math study group. A part of Blaine thinks he should have given himself a timeout from the boy to figure things out, while another part of him wants to spend as much time with him as possible. It's no secret he's infatuated with and attracted to Kurt. According to Sam, Blaine might mean something special to Kurt, and obviously he's attracted to Blaine. Isn't he? Would he do what they've done if he wasn't? What does everything mean? And what's up with Blaine, kissing him like that, on a Monday afternoon?

Blaine never thought he'd experience this much boy issues in high school in Ohio.

* * *

He's been studying Jeff for some time, now. Hiding behind a book, he's been peaking at the boy's slumped but meticulous stance by his desk. Kurt can't quite believe how much homework he seems to have. Jeff is working harder than Kurt did his Junior year at McKinley, that's for sure.

The he remembers that Blaine is also a Junior, and he hadn't been this hung up on his books earlier. In fact they had time to discuss the imperfections of David Boreanaz' body above Blaine's bed. It turned out to not be so many, but they did make it a thorough analysis. Wes wasn't in the room then, obviously.

_Do you have a test tomorrow? _

He texts Blaine in case the boy's forgotten about whatever Jeff's studying for. The answer comes immediately.

_Yes, a quick multiple choice-test in history, should be a breeze in the park before the weekend. Why?_

_Just checking. Jeff's having an intense affair with his books._

It takes some time before Blaine answers this time. In fact, almost five minutes passes before the text chimes.

_Jeff is an eager student._

No kidding, Blaine? Jeff's obsession with his homework is borderline unhealthy, Kurt thinks.

Kurt studies Jeff more, every now and then flipping the page of his book to maintain the pretence of reading. The boy looks frustrated, a membrane of pain covering his face.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" he asks, assuming Dalton has an unwritten roommate agreement that says Thou Shalt Save Thy Roomie From Brain Fry.

Jeff startles, and smiles timidly as he looks up.

"Thank you, but today is not a good day; I need to prepare for this test and it's killing me. But I'd love to hang out tomorrow," he says sincerely.

"You seem to have a lot of homework," Kurt comments easily, to make conversation.

Jeff doesn't say anything, but it doesn't look as if he's reading either. Eventually he grips the desk with both hands, and pushes himself away on his rolling chair. He twirls around to face Kurt, resting his feet on Kurt's bed.

"You're a cool guy," Jeff says.

"Thank you?"

"I'm dyslectic," Jeff mumbles, talking to his clasped hands in his lap.

Oh…

"I just thought you should know. I trust you. And it's not like I could hide it when we live together."

"Thank you for sharing this with me," Kurt answers, feeling guilty for not trusting Jeff with his secret the other day. "Are there anything I can do for you?" he automatically adds, Mr. Hummel's upbringing simmering through.

"It's so sweet of you to offer," Jeff beams, looking honestly pleased. "But I just have to finish reading the last ten pages, it shouldn't take much more than an hour, and hopefully I know enough about the French revolution by then."

"Oh, I love the French revolution!" Kurt blurts out.

"You do?" Jeff looks intrigued.

"Yeah, I fell in love with _Les Misérables_ when I was young, and decided to read up on the history to understand more."

"When you were young?" Jeff giggles. "'Cause you're such a grumpy old man!"

"My skin care regime will provide me with eternal youth, at least on the outside," Kurt sighs haughtily. "Now give me your book."

Jeff still giggles, but hands his history book over to Kurt.

"So, King Louis XVI."

* * *

As usual, Friday morning was spent with Christy. They talked about his reaction to the study group and how difficult it is for him to interact in any social activities. Christy had expressed concern about his reluctance to spend time with the boys, get to know them, accept invitations to hang out or initiate anything himself. They had talked about his fears and worries, how he'd freeze up, and how distrusting he was to anyone around him.

They had together revealed that he's still acting like he did at McKinley – walking carefully in the hallways close to the walls afraid of being noticed or targeted, keeping his mouth shut to avoid drawing attention to himself, isolating himself, hiding in the library, constantly looking over his shoulder to better take care of himself, flinching at sudden movements or sharp sounds, and generally acting petrified.

Christy was adamant on them talking through his problems, convinced that Kurt would be able to heal with better insight and knowledge about himself. He'd need to understand himself to be able to change. But she also saw how much his social anxiety was blocking his progress, and felt strongly about his chances on settling down in his new school. She wanted to help him experience safety, relaxation and good moments in his new and safer school. And for him to achieve that, they'd need to muffle his worst anxiety. So for a limited time she'd prescribe pills for him, reasoning that feeling more comfortable in school would eventually lessen some of his anxiety, helping him feel even better, looping him into a good circle and render the pills unnecessary.

So Monday Kurt finds himself in the school nurse's office again, to pick up the bottle of pills Christy prescribed. He doesn't feel optimistic about Christy's predictions. Sure her sleeping pills made him sleep better, but they still make him feel like shit the next day. So what would be the side effects of these pills?

He groans, and decides to go to one of the on-campus coffee bars to get something to swallow his new candy with.


	39. C is for

**AN: I have this neurotic need to have the same amount of chapters for my WIPs, at least as long as they aren't completed, and for a long time I've been one chapter behind on this story - so due to my insane mind, you are treated with a bonus chapter this week! Hurray!**

**Thank you for all the love you show me through your feedback! **

**I've decided to keep my chapters somewhat shorter from now on - it makes them more manageable for me, and I think I'll be able to update more regularly. I just have to tame my urges, because I have so much plot planned and so much I want to do with my stories, but I guess both the author and the readers have to wrap themselves up with some patience.**

**Remember: I haven't watched everything in season 4 yet, so please let my bubble in here be spoiler free!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

True to his words, Sebastian spends the next days wooing Blaine Valentine's Day style.

Monday Blaine's given a red rose during dinner, which under closer inspection turns out to be one of those panty roses, with a satiny thong for Blaine. His face might have caught fire, and he leaves the gift with his uneaten food on the tray.

Tuesday Blaine finds a purple heart shaped box with a plush cover in front of his door, his name written on a tag. When he opens it, he finds a layer of chocolate, but under the layer is a bottle of _kama sutra chocolate body paint_ and a small brush. Blaine drops it to the floor as if he's been scolded, before quickly hiding it in his bottom drawer. He'll deposit of it somewhere his roommate can't accidentally see it.

Wednesday Sebastian coaxes Blaine against his better judgement to show up for Warblers' rehearsal. There Sebastian has prepared a number with the other guys, and serenades Blaine with _Want You Back_. The harmonies are good, the solo is amazing, and the dancing is borderline suggestive, but also more entertaining than the Warblers' usual side steps. There's no doubt Sebastian is good for the Warblers. There's also no doubt that his aggressive pursuit makes Blaine's skin crawl.

* * *

"So, do you have any plans for the upcoming weekend?" Blaine asks innocently, but thinking about how Saturday is Valentine's Day. He's still on the fence whether he should do something for Kurt or not, and needs to decide soon. It's not because of his own opinions or feelings, though, but because he's uncertain about Kurt's reaction. He can't do anything obvious at Dalton that'll out him, or give him something grand that'll draw attention. But at least, maybe a card? Or a teddy bear? He could mail it so nobody understands it's from him. If it arrived in the mail room, it could be from anybody; even a girl. Or maybe he could order flowers delivered to Kurt's room?

"I guess I'll go home and spend some quality time with friends and family. Nothing special planned, though. Why?" Kurt's answer seems uninspired, almost bored, and Blaine suspects he hasn't really though about the weekend yet. But if Kurt is in Lima, Blaine could have something sent there. His family won't have any problem with Kurt receiving romantic attention from a boy, and Blaine still has Kurt's address stored in his GPS from when they drove his car to the party.

"Well, Valentine's Day is coming up," Blaine says easily, trying to figure out Kurt. He clasps his hands around the coffee mug to keep them busy from nervously twisting in his lap.

"Oh that?" Kurt snorts. "That's just a tacky day hosted by the retail industry to make easy money from love struck suckers." He glances at the counter of the coffee bar on campus they're in, rolling his eyes at the sight of the various Valentines-offers; heart shaped cookies, pink tea, and extra large hot chocolates with whipped cream and two straws. At an all boys' boarding school? Really?

"Well, I for one think it's cute that there's one day dedicated to laying your heart out and telling someone how you feel about them."

"So, if you meet someone February 15th you have to wait 364 days to tell them?" Kurt says sarcastically, obviously not asking out of curiosity.

"Of course not," Blaine says, feeling frustrated. "But Valentine's Day can be a nice incentive if it's difficult to find the courage on your own."

"I'm all for romance, but there's nothing romantic about getting a mass produced card a fifth of the American population is given as their _special gift_. And then people put so much stock in that day, it creates an impossible pressure of expectations to satisfy. They blow it up out of proportions, and for what? A cheesy card, a useless teddy bear and a clichéd bouquet of roses?"

Blaine's heart sinks. He'd hoped it'd be easy to shower Kurt with some attention, let him know how special he is to Blaine. But of course, Kurt isn't like anybody else, and Blaine should have realized that someone as unique as Kurt wasn't into mainstream commercialization.

"But even though it may be a cliché, it doesn't necessarily mean it isn't truly heartfelt?"

"I don't know," Kurt sighs. "I've never given or received anything for Valentine's Day. But I do believe it'd feel more romantic and special if it wasn't something pink shaped as a heart that came a dime a dozen."

Kurt's given Blaine food for thought. He remembers the bouquet of flowers Kurt received from his friends while at Bellefontaine, and that had been a fairly unique collection. Blaine recalls describing it as beautifully mismatched, and Kurt had adored the personal touch; each friend choosing their favourite flower, and putting them together as a bouquet. If only Blaine could do something special for him. Or maybe he should just drop it all together, and choose another day to do something romantic for Kurt, to show he's listening and embracing every day of the year as an opportunity to express his feelings?

"Well, well, well, fancy finding you here," a familiar voice says, and Blaine looks up to see Sebastian standing casually by their table. "To be honest, I noticed you when I came, and took the liberty of buying you coffee," he says, extending one of his hands, hot steam still twirling in spirals out of the mug. "I bet you're a latte guy."

"Umm, thank you," Blaine slightly stutters, still clutching at his half drunk medium drip. He accepts Sebastian's coffee with one hand, silently wondering which one to drink. "Would you like to sit?" he offers politely, and Sebastian beams.

"I'd love to," he grins, grabbing a chair from a neighbouring table and sliding close to Blaine. Blaine looks apologetically at Kurt, who just shrugs.

"Ups, I nearly didn't see you there, noticing transparency isn't my strongest skill," Sebastian smirks, glaring condescendingly at Kurt.

"That's okay; I usually don't mingle with nobodies. And as I don't have the faintest idea who you are, you must be one of those," Kurt smiles politely, but his voice is ice cold.

Blaine shrinks somewhat in his chair, caught in an unexpected crossfire.

"Funny you should say that," Sebastian laughs, sounding honestly amused. "Up until a few days ago, I had never seen or heard of you before, despite the fact I did my Freshman year here, I'm a Warbler and I'm the captain of the lacrosse team after only a month back. Not much of a somebody are you, then?"

"Ah, a jock. Not what I'd have first guessed, but still not that much of a surprise. Jocks are below me," Kurt smiles sweetly.

Blaine twists uncomfortably in his chair, wondering if he should break this up before it gets ugly. A part of him is amazed by Kurt's ability to stand up for himself, though. This isn't the hesitant and nervous Kurt he's seen at Dalton so far. It's as if Sebastian triggers something in Kurt, provokes bravery.

"Such a cute kitten, testing his claws for the first time," Sebastian giggles. He bumps his shoulder against Blaine. "Isn't he adorable?"

The honest "Yes" slips out of Blaine's lips before he can even think about an answer, and both Kurt and Sebastian freeze, looking at him. Kurt looks confused, while Sebastian looks frustrated, almost angry.

"Ah, yes, I almost managed to suppress the memory of you being all cutesy and cuddly on the couch on Sunday." Sebastian turns his chair slightly towards Kurt. "And from what I understand, Blaine here is single and not at all owned by you. So, care to share, sweetcheeks? Or even better, step back and let someone who knows how to, give him the time of his life?"

"I can make my own decisions!" Blaine splutters indignantly, while watching Kurt both blushing and paling. His eyes are huge, he seems to be shaking, and he's worrying his lower lip. His hands were holding the paper cup of coffee, but are now soaked in the brown liquid. Kurt doesn't seem to notice the cup he burst, though.

"I-I-I…" he stutters, and Blaine realizes this is an important crossroad where Kurt has to decide if he'll lie to stay in the closet or not. "We… We're not… Why do you ask me to share?" he manages to say, clearly struggling with both his words and emotions. His coffee soaked hands are shaking, and drops of coffee are dripping from the table onto his lap without Kurt noticing.

Sebastian looks utterly transfixed and intrigued with Kurt.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but I'll never be the other man," he shrugs, searching Kurt's eyes for something.

"Sebastian, I think you should…" Blaine begins, but Sebastian lifts a hand to shush him without looking at him.

"Th… There's no _first _man to begin with," Kurt answers, and his voice betrays how scared he is. Blaine's hands are twitching, eager to reach out and hold Kurt, but that would be the worst thing he could do now. He wants to stretch a leg and wrap his foot comfortingly around Kurt's, but with the small table, he's afraid of catching Sebastian's foot instead.

"As I said, you looked cosy, Blaine claims to be single, and I wanted to make sure I didn't touch someone else's claim."

Blaine feels like a piece of meat being auctioned at the free market. He feels like a slave where others discuss ownership. He feels queasy and disgusted.

"I'm not gay," Kurt says calmly, and if Blaine didn't know him so well, he'd almost believe him from the strength and sincerity in his voice. But there's a slight shiver in his voice, and he looks a tad too determined to be convincing. Blaine's heart breaks a little, knowing Kurt's so afraid of being sanctioned for his sexuality.

"Of course you are. You have the most severe case of baby-gay-face I've ever seen," Sebastian snorts.

"That's pretty offensive," Blaine gently scolds.

"Telling it as it is," he shrugs. "You're gay, I'm gay, Nick and Jeff are gay, other guys here are gay – and Kurt is one of them. Welcome to Dalton, a big gay happy family," he mock cheers, making jazz hands.

Blaine watches with horror how Kurt sinks further down in his chair, inhaling loudly at Sebastian's words, his breath hissing as he forces it down his lungs. He's pale and wide eyed, brimmed with unshed tears. He's crumbling right in front of Blaine, and Blaine does the only thing his instincts tell him to do. He reaches out a hand to take Kurt's, to comfort him, to ground him, to let him know he's still there. As soon as skin touches coffee-sticky skin, Kurt jerks the hand away as if he finally feels the scolding coffee, and Blaine can't even finish pronouncing Kurt's name before the boy's bolted out of the coffee bar, out of the building, and out of sight.

"What was that?" Sebastian asks, sounding disbelieving, almost amused.

Blaine literally bites his tongue, wondering what to share. He picks up Kurt's abandoned coat and satchel.

"I better go check on him," he says instead, leaving Sebastian confused in the otherwise almost empty coffee bar.

Of course, Blaine can't see Kurt anywhere when he exits the building. He takes a minute to consider his options. Kurt still doesn't have his car here, so he can't have left campus. The boy spends a lot of time in the library, but it really isn't a place to hide if you're crying. Blaine decides to go back to the dormitory building, hoping Kurt is there.

He knocks on the door to Kurt and Jeff's room, and doesn't have to wait long before Nick opens up the door, just a narrow gap to see who's there. Wordlessly, he opens the door completely, and lets Blaine in.

Kurt is lying face down on his bed, loud sobs wracking his body in violent trembling. Jeff is kneeling on the floor, running a hand up and down Kurt's blazer clad back, mumbling to the boy.

"Don't cry, Kurt, you'll only make me cry too," he says softly, sounding sad.

Without hesitating, Blaine toes off his shoes and peals off his coat and blazer. He climbs into Kurt's bed, stepping over him, and carefully plops down next to him, cradling him in his arms.

"It'll be okay," he murmurs. "You'll be fine."

Kurt flips lightning fast around to wrap his arms around Blaine's neck, hiding his face against his chest and muffling his sobs. Blaine holds him even tighter, firmly against his body.

"Come on, Jeff," Nick whispers, grabbing his boyfriend's hand and helping him up from the floor. "Let's be early for rehearsal for once." Nick silently closes the door behind them.

Blaine lets Kurt cry himself dry, just holding him and humming soothingly against his hair. He can't even begin to imagine the kind of fear Kurt is feeling now. Even though it's unwarranted, he won't belittle Kurt's feelings. Just because Blaine knows he's safe at Dalton, doesn't mean Kurt understands it or feels the same yet. Sam made him see that.

Kurt's body slowly relaxes against Blaine's, and he's less tense in his arms. His sobs are muffled, until they're gone. His breath evens, and finally he's asleep in Blaine's arms.

* * *

Blaine must have drifted off too, but is awoken by the sound of someone knocking on the door. He gently untangles Kurt's octopusly arms and legs from his own limbs, and carefully steps over him and crawls out of bed, trying not to wake him up.

He's unsuccessful, though, and Kurt stirs with Blaine hovering over him, one foot on the floor and one on the other side of Kurt.

"Go back to sleep," he whispers, closing the short distance between their faces and kissing Kurt on the forehead.

"S'okay," Kurt whispers. "M'not sleepy."

Blaine would have taken his time to enjoy how adorable Kurt looks when he's just waking up like that, but whoever is waiting knocks on the door again. He runs a few steps for speed, and slides on his socks on the polished floor all they way to the door. He smiles at the sound of Kurt giggling behind him, and opens the door with flourish. His smile falters when he spots Sebastian on the other side, though. The boy quickly puts a foot against the doorframe, and begs to be let in.

"This isn't my room, so it isn't my decision to make," Blaine says calmly.

"Who is it?" Kurt yawns.

Sebastian pries the door completely open, and Blaine can only imagine what the boy must be thinking. Kurt is still in his Dalton uniform, but under the covers and with sleep-messy hair. Blaine can only assume he has a severe case of bed head himself, not to mention all the wrinkles in his shirt after napping in it.

"Please let me in. I just want to see if you're all right," Sebastian pleads past Blaine, looking at Kurt and sounding sincere.

"He will be," Blaine says, trying to close the door.

"Let him in," Kurt sighs, sounding exhausted, but still certain about his opinion.

Blaine wants to object, but does as Kurt tells him. He expects Sebastian to be smug, but the boy smiles seemingly sincerely. He steps in effortlessly, but still reverently, and sits down on Jeff's made bed, straight across of Kurt, but still with some distance.

Blaine doesn't know what to do, and ends up standing awkwardly by the locked door. Until Kurt looks at him, eyes shining with fear and loneliness. So he walks over to Kurt's bed again, and sits down next to him. Close enough to be there for him, but with enough distance to avoid suggesting anything Sebastian can use against Kurt.

"I think it's safe to conclude that everyone in this room is gay, but clearly one of us has a major issue with it," Sebastian states calmly, looking at Kurt.

Kurt's suppressing shivers next to Blaine, and Blaine desperately wants to reach out and be there for him, but it didn't exactly work out swell the last time he followed that urge.

The silence drags out for a long time. Sebastian is waiting patiently, resting on his elbows and looking relaxed. Blaine's eyes are alternating being trained on Sebastian and Kurt, dreading this is the calm before the storm. Kurt is sitting poised, studying his fingers as if he's only now noticing the coffee. Eventually, he takes a deep breath.

"I'm gay," Kurt whispers hoarsely, and Blaine expects some sarcastic hurray to slip out of Sebastian's mouth, but he's oddly silent. "I was out in my last school, but that didn't go so well. So I've tried to dodge it here…"

Kurt swallows heavily, and sits slumped over, his eyes trained on his lap where his still coffee stained fingers are nervously fidgeting.

"Please don't tell anybody," he pleads, finally looking up at Sebastian.

"I don't know how you expect to be seen as straight, but hell; I'm not gonna out you. I know too well what that can lead to," he says harshly, and for a moment, he seems to be somewhere else. His eyes grow kinder, his smirk fades, and he seems younger. He quickly composes himself. "Look on the bright side. It's only a couple of months left of this semester, and then you're out of here. You can go flaming around in San Francisco for all I care," Sebastian smirks, looking pleased at Blaine for some reason. "Then it's just you and me, hot stuff," he winks.

A lone tear is trickling down Kurt's cheek, and Blaine can't hold himself back anymore. He wraps an arm around Kurt's shoulders, and is relieved when the other boy leans into his embrace.

"It's not that easy," Kurt chokes. He's crying for real now, clinging to Blaine, and Sebastian looks uncomfortable.

"What's going on?" he addresses Blaine.

Kurt tightens his hold on Blaine's tie, and he takes it as a cue to explain.

"_Circumstances_," he says carefully, hoping Sebastian won't dig for details, "interfered in Kurt's first semester of his senior year, so he'll be here for three semesters to finish high school." Blaine locks eyes with Sebastian, pleading with him to be nice.

"That sucks big time," Sebastian says so harshly Kurt has to look up. "I should have been a Junior now," he shrugs, but it's obvious that it bothers him.

Blaine briefly wonders what his story is. Kurt should have graduated in a few months, but is a year delayed because of the bullying and his mental struggles. Blaine should have been a Senior now, but was held back a year to heel from the attack. And Sebastian had already mentioned briefly to Blaine he should have been a year up, but something happened in France.

"Okay princess, I doubt you'll be able to stay under the radar for that long, but I won't be the one to tell anyone," Sebastian says, back to his usual cockiness as he climbs elegantly out of Jeff's bed. "And as far as I'm concerned, Blaine is still free game," he says, winks at the dumbfound boy, and saunters out of the room.

Kurt is breathing rapidly next to Blaine, inhaling and exhaling in quick successions, but really not catching any breath at all. Blaine fears the boy is building up to a panic attack.

"Hey Kurt, look at me, you need proper oxygen," he says, trying to ease the moment. Kurt doesn't hear him, and it doesn't matter where his eyes are directed, because he isn't looking at anything in that room anyway.

"Kurt, come on, come back to me." Blaine's desperate for Kurt to calm down, and moves closer. He straddles the boy's lap, trying to break through. "Kurt, I'm here, you'll be okay," Blaine pleads, running a hand through Kurt's wild hair and down to his face, caressing and exploring the boy's face with his finger tips.

Kurt moves his arms, and lets his hands rest on Blaine's hip. He's closer, but still distant.

"Your heart is beating really fast," he murmurs with his hand resting on Kurt's chest, speaking for the sake of speaking, hoping Kurt will snap out of it.

Kurt blinks rapidly, like a butterfly testing its wings for the first time. Blaine automatically leans in closer, cupping both of Kurt's cheeks with his hands.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he says fondly when Kurt's eyes finally meet his.

"Blaine!" Kurt chokes, and within nothing, the space between their faces has been erased.

Kurt's clutching to Blaine, hands roaming over his back until they land and stay on his shoulders. He's kissing Blaine with hunger and despair, and Blaine lets him. When Kurt moans and bucks up against Blaine's, he lets him. When Blaine finds himself on his back with Kurt on top of him, he doesn't know who let who anymore, but he knows he approves. If this is what Kurt needs, this is what he'll give him. Together, they manage to get Kurt out of his blazer, but that's about all they have time for.

* * *

When Blaine leaves Kurt's room in a pair of sweatpants that aren't his own, Kurt's coffee soaked hands are their least sticky situation.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Wes asks easily when Blaine locks himself into their room. Wes is sprawled out on Blaine's bed.

"Hung out with Kurt," Blaine shrugs, hoping his face won't catch on fire. Belatedly he realizes dinner just finished being served, and neither boy has eaten anything since lunch.

"Interesting outfit," Wes grins, taking in Blaine's too long sweatpants and his wrinkled shirt, two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "Did you spill custard on your clothes again?"

"Something like that," Blaine agrees readily, depositing his spoiled clothes in the hamper.

"I'll swear we'll have to make you eat your desserts with a straw if you can't sit still by the table," Wes laughs. "Now come here, I have a gay question about Mr. Boreanaz," he says, patting the mattress next to him.

"I really need a shower," Blaine argues, opening the wardrobe to pull out a towel and clean underwear.

"Okay, it's not like I'd want to touch your sticky mess anyway. But hurry back," Wes shouts longingly as Blaine forces out a laughter and disappears to their bathroom.

* * *

"Something smells really good," Wes interrupts in their discussion of boobs versus abs. Not surprisingly, they can never settle for an agreement.

Blaine really has to find Wes a proper poster to have over his bed, he reminds himself once again.

"Come on," Wes says, rolling out of bed and tugging Blaine with him.

Wes closes their door carefully, and places his index finger in front of his lips as the universal shut the fuck up-sign. He tip-toes sneakingly down the hallway like a Native Indian on a scavenger hunt, or something. Blaine still suspects his brain has been replaced with mashed potatoes after what Kurt and he did earlier. The hot and then the cold showers didn't help, and drowsily defending why abs are fab with his best and silliest friend hasn't exactly increased his intelligence level either.

Wes plops down on the floor, crawling on his stomach along the hallway towards the kitchen. Blaine strolls after him, used to his antics by now. So are the other students, who hardly lift an eyebrow at the sight, but just politely nods at Wes and then grins at Blaine.

Like a crocodile or a similar reptile, Wes walks on his toes and fingers into the kitchen.

"Kurt!" he screams in falsetto, Kurt screams even louder, but nothing can drown out the sound of glass crashing to the floor and bursting into tiny, tiny pieces.

"Freeze!" Blaine shouts as he shows up, hoping he can stop Wes from crawling in the sharp shards.

Luckily, Wes is well trained. So is Kurt, who is doubled over, hands wrapped around his torso.

"Umm, hi Kurt," Blaine says awkwardly, because what do you say to someone post _that_?

"Vacuumer?" Kurt suggests, looking more composed at the sight of Blaine.

"Right. One moment," he backs out of the room, and looks up and down the hallway. _Get a grip, Blaine_, he mutters to himself. He texts David the SOS, knowing the prefects have keys to the maintenance closet for cleaning supplies.

When Blaine returns, Kurt has put on a pair of neon green dishwasher gloves, and is carefully picking up the biggest shards, putting them in a small paper bag he must have found in one of the shelves.

"Are you unharmed?" Blaine asks Wes, who's still lying on the floor.

"Ssh, I'm hiding in the sand dunes," Wes hisses. Okay, so he's a chameleon today.

"He's Wes," Blaine shrugs at Kurt's questioningly look. The boy stiffens visibly, and Blaine looks behind him to see.

"Oh good, David, the vacuumer, thank you!" Blaine beams, and lovingly kicks at Wes to make him move out of the way.

Before soon, they've cleaned up, and Kurt has taken out a tray from the oven just in time to prevent it from being burned.

"I got hungry," he explains apologetically, wringing his hands. "And you said I could take whatever unlabeled with names. There wasn't really much _food_ here, so I decided to bake," he rushes out, eyes darting to and fro David.

"Now what starts with the letter C?" David growls.

"'Cookie' starts with C!" Nick suggests from the door opening.

"Let's think of other things that start with C!" Jeff adds grinningly.

"Uuh… Uuh… Who cares about the other things?" David decides.

"_C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me. C is for cookie, that's good enough for me. C is for cookie, that's good enough for me. Oh cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!_" Jeff, David, Wes, Nick and Blaine sing, surrounding a flabbergasted Kurt.

"Hey, you know what?" David asks, picking up one of the still hot cookies. "A round cookie with one bite out of it looks like a C," he says over a mouthful of cookie, waving the C-shaped snack triumphantly in the air.

"A round donut with one bite out of it also looks like a C," Jeff adds enthusiastically.

"But it is not as good as a cookie," Nick reminds him, shaking his head.

"Oh, and the moon sometimes looks like a C but you can't eat that," Wes tells them.

"_C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me. C is for cookie, that's good enough for me. C is for cookie, that's good enough for me. Oh cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!_"

They repeat the chorus and split up in pairs, waltzing across the floor. Blaine decides to be careless, and takes Kurt for a spin.

The enticing aroma of freshly baked cookies draws more boys to the kitchen. The song probably helped the lure too. Or the memory of the cookies Kurt brought to Dalton a few weeks ago.

"So, another batch of cookies is needed, I guess," Kurt sighs. He looks overwhelmed, but there's also a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, Blaine notices.

"We'll help," Jeff offers, walking over to the counter to wash his hands.

Jeff and Kurt whip together cookie dough until they run out of eggs, and let the other boys experiment with different flavours. Peanut butter is an obvious, minced chilli not so much. Blaine notices Trevor and David discussing shopping lists for next week, and assumes he should warn Kurt about being this floor's designated baker from now on. But not yet. For now, he'll let Kurt bask in the Dalton madness and get used to his new wings, but observing him in case he needs help. And stuffing his own face with delicious cookies.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Michael Jackson – _Want You Back  
_Muppets – _C is for Cookie_


	40. Not a Valentine

**AN: I hope it's okay for you with shorter chapters updated somewhat more frequent. Let me know what you think, I love chatting with my faithful readers who have chosen to put their trust in me and join on this ride!**

**Warning: I've only seen up to Sadie Hawkins in season 4, and want to remain spoiler free. I don't know what will happen later, and I don't want to know until I see it on my TV either. Thank you for respecting that!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, but have fun borrowing some of their characters.**

* * *

Carole is the one to pick up Kurt for the weekend. She had done a night shift in the hospital, and was thus able to pick him up already at 2 PM after his last class of French, instead of letting Kurt wait for Finn or Burt to be done in Lima before driving to Westerville.

"Have you gotten anything you need for the weekend?"

Kurt nods.

"And your pills?"

Kurt nods, but more slowly this time. How did they know?

"Christy calls us after each session, sweetie. She tells us what we need to know. She hasn't broken any confidentiality, and although you're not a minor, the current circumstances still makes Burt your guardian, and he needs to know what medications you're given."

Carole looks warmly and calmly at him, and he can feel himself ease up in the car seat.

"She never tells us anything about what you talk about, that's between you and her. But I think your dad would be glad to listen, if you want to talk things through with him," she says carefully. "And I will always lend you a listening ear. We all will," she reassures him.

Kurt doesn't say anything, looking out of the window and watching Westerville disappear as they head out on the motorway.

She doesn't bug him into talking, for which Kurt is grateful.

"I like your gloves," he comments eventually, and he does.

"Thank you," Carole beams. "Burt got them for me in Chicago. He likes how they provide me with a solid grip on the steering wheel, and I like how slender and elegant they make my hands look," she grins wickedly.

Kurt giggles, and Carole looks quickly at him, her attention not straying off the road for long. She giggles too.

"Thank you for coming all the way out here to pick me up," he smiles gratefully at the woman.

"Not a problem, honey. It gave me a chance to listen to a few chapters of _Twilight_. The usual fifteen minutes I drive to or from work just isn't enough to get any listening done," she smiles. "Besides. You're family. Of course I'd pick you up."

"_Twilight_? Seriously?" Kurt can't help the accusing tone in his voice. He just can't imagine Carole as a member of neither Team Edward nor Team Jacob.

"Quinn recommended it, and let me borrow her audio books the last time she was over for dinner. They are fascinatingly captivating, although not what I'd normally read. Listen to," Carole laughs.

"So, anything exciting going on in school?" she asks, and the question is open enough to let him tell whatever he wants, for which he's grateful.

"We ended up having a cookie party yesterday," he shrugs as if it's nothing, but honestly he's still amazed by how friendly and silly the boys had been.

"You can never go wrong with cookies," Carole beams, a twinkle in her eyes. "What kind?"

"My first batch was with dried cranberries, but the boys kept popping up, so I let them add whatever they wanted. It wasn't a very well stocked kitchen; I guess they don't often have cookie marathons there," he grins ruefully. "Minced chilli worked surprisingly well, garlic was just weird, peanut butter is a classic, but potatoes are a no-no," Kurt explains, counting the varieties on his fingers.

"Potatoes?" Carole snorts.

"Yeah, they reasoned that carrot cake is good, mashed potatoes are good, and thus adding raw shredded potatoes should be splendid."

"Well, let's applaud them for creativity and being adventurous?" Carole suggests, and they both laugh.

* * *

Friday night dinner is a calm affair, and it sooths Kurt. It's like getting a taste of normalcy, and he even has to admit that having Carole and Finn there feels more like home than he'd ever hope.

Carole and Kurt went grocery shopping on their way home, and then spent time together preparing dinner and dessert for the family. Finn came home from school first, and had engulfed Kurt in a choking hug after looking him up and down to make sure he was still unharmed. Burt had come home not long after, giving his son a silent, but warm hug.

Kurt feels lulled in a cocoon of safety, and he can breathe deeply and freely for the first time in a long time. Finn is eagerly eating his third serving of blueberry pie, while Kurt had stopped after two smaller slices.

"Boys," Burt says, and Kurt's heart drops. He shouldn't have relaxed this much. He should have known things were too good to be true. "We have something we want to discuss with you."

Finn swallows the last mouthful of pie, and Carole takes Burt's hand. Kurt gulps, his throat feels desert dry, and he pours a glass of lemon water, drinking it eagerly.

"As you may remember, we've talked about finding a bigger house, so you boys can get separate rooms," Burt says calmly, but watching his son carefully.

Kurt remembers. His dad and Carole had postponed Project New House when Kurt's _incident_ happened, and Carole and Finn had moved in with the Hummel's instead.

"The money Carole got for their house is on a saving account, and we have been talking with a real estate agent about how much this house might be worth. Combining those two amounts of money, added with some soberness, Carole and I have been looking for a bigger house."

Kurt nods. He's on board so far. It's not that big of a shock, they were looking at houses back in October.

"We may have found a place," Burt states, and Carole smiles fondly at him. "And we would like it if you boys have a look at it too. If you like it, we may put in a bid. If you don't like it, we'll keep looking."

"Cool," Finn grins, but quickly falters. "It's still in Lima, right?"

"It is, honey," Carole reassures him. "It wouldn't change much, except giving you boys more privacy with separate rooms."

Burt looks expectantly at Kurt, who hasn't said anything so far.

"When are we going?" he says, aiming for nonchalance. A lot of thoughts and questions are blooming in his mind.

"We have an appointment with the real estate agent Sunday afternoon; I hope you boys don't have any plans then."

"I'm seeing Quinn tomorrow, but nothing important the day after," Finn nods.

"My weekend is wide open," Kurt shrugs. He'd planned to text his girls to make some plans, but hasn't gotten to it yet. He can coordinate his social life when this family meeting is over.

* * *

Kurt completely forgot about Valentine's Day, and it turns out that almost all of his friends are currently dating someone and have epic romantic plans for Saturday. Rachel and Artie are the only one currently single. Artie is nice enough, but they really aren't close, and it isn't an obvious option for Kurt to spend alone time with him. He wouldn't mind spending time with Rachel, but her dads are taking her to New York for the weekend to check out schools and narrow down her options.

A part of Kurt had hurt at that. He too should have been focused on college now. After Nationals in New York last year, they had both agreed to come back, together. They had spent the summer dreaming, but Rachel's dreams grew stronger and stronger, while Kurt's dreams went further and further away, until they dissolved into nothingness. Then they were back in school, and things went from bad to terrible.

"Are you sure about this, Kurt?" Burt asks again.

"Of course, dad," Kurt smiles, drying one of the plates from breakfast. Being reminded about Valentine's Day, Kurt had suggested a date night for Carole and Burt. Neither was working this weekend, and Kurt thought they should grasp that opportunity.

"Are you okay with being home alone, though?" Burt doesn't spell it aloud, but it will be the first time Kurt's spent any time on his own in a long time. Even though he can sit alone in his room or in the library at Dalton, there are always people nearby.

"I'll be fine. There is plenty of food in the kitchen, I have movies to watch and books to read, and I can even do homework if I get bored. I'll be fine," Kurt reassures him.

"Okay, but if you want to have friends over, we wouldn't mind. Just let us know, so we can leave enough money for food."

"I think I'll rearrange my wardrobe. I haven't done that in a long time," Kurt muses.

"And you most definitely don't want anyone to help you with that; I know," Burt chuckles, and takes the kitchen towel from Kurt.

"So what are your plans today?" Kurt puts on rubber gloves and searches in the suddy water for the last utensils.

"Well, there's this museum exhibition in Columbus Carole wanted to see. She's made reservations at a sushi place, not too sure about that, though," Burt says, crinkling his nose.

"Sushi is good for your heart, dad. You should listen more to Carole," Kurt teases. "Is that all you've planned, though?"

"Well, I'm taking her out dancing. And I may have booked a hotel room. In case we want to have a glass of wine, and let the car stay parked. Although I don't know if raw fish is best served with white or red wine," Burt mumbles, polishing the glass in his hands.

"Sake, dad."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sa-ke," Kurt pronounces slowly. "Japanese rice wine, often served with sushi."

"God, I hope that place has beer," Burt mutters.

"Wait, you said you had a hotel room?"

"Yeah," Burt blushes.

"I guess it's too late to give you a curfew, then."

* * *

Not long after, Kurt has the house to himself. He decides that even though he's single and alone tonight, he doesn't have to feel lonely. He runs downstairs to pick out a DVD and get the well hidden storage of chocolate truffles. Even though they were a gift from Finn when he came from Bellefontaine, he wouldn't be surprised if Finn had found and eaten them. Upstairs again he lights every single candle he can find, and then some. Without any electric lightning, he manages to create a really cosy atmosphere, and with the widescreen and surround system, this will be even better than going to the movies. No kids kicking the back of his seat, no couples making out right in front of him, no Marge Simpson-hair blocking his view, nobody laughing in the wrong places, and nobody making too much noise with crinkling candy wrappers.

Kurt gets comfortable in the couch with too many pillows and a thick blanket. He'll splurge and order Chinese later, whenever he begins feeling hungry.

He's 15 minutes out in the movie when his phone alerts him of an incoming text, and he groans; he should have remembered to turn it off to be kept in peace.

Curious like a cat he picks out the phone to see who's thinking about him this afternoon. He hopes it's none of the girls pitying him or Rachel gloating about New York.

_Hey Kurt! I hope you're having a good time with friends or family. __Do you know when you're coming back? I need help with French, and I do remember how spectacular you are. Blaine_

Kurt chuckles, remembering how he helped Blaine with pronunciation for _Le Petit Prince_ at Bellefontaine.

_It looks like a solo tonight. Friends and family are worshipping Cupid and Mammon. I might be late; family appointment tomorrow afternoon. Kurt, and the rest of the von Trapp's say hello too_

_Too bad for me, but I'm glad you'll spend time with your family tomorrow. I'll struggle with this French, but I'll get through it.!_

Kurt glances at the TV-screen. He's probably seen _Sound of Music_ more often than he can count.

_I don't believe in long distance education, but I'm up for private tutoring whenever you find yourself in the neighbourhood ;)_

The answer comes immediately.

_Are you inviting me over?_

_Yes, Blaine. I'm expecting you to drive two hours to do your homework._

_:) Enjoy your movie, Kurt!_

* * *

The ending is happy once again, and Kurt leans further back in the pillows with a pleased sigh as he turns off the DVD-player with the remote control. The movie makes him feel nostalgic, taking him for a walk down the memory lane. So many times he saw that movie with his mom. He can't see it, he can't even hear any of the songs without thinking about her. Hell, sometimes thinking about his own name and knowing how he got it is enough to make him sentimental.

He gets up to rummage the drawers in the kitchen for take out-menus, beginning to feel peckish. He's eaten too many chocolate truffles, but he'll compensate with yoga and a rigorous skin care regime later tonight.

He's contemplating chicken or scampi, when the door bell rings. Finn said he'd spend the night at Puck's, which probably is code for sneaking in at Quinn's. His dad wouldn't ring the bell, and he hadn't mentioned expecting anyone popping over. Many thoughts have the time to run through Kurt's mind during the fairly short distance from the kitchen to the front door.

"_Bonsoir_," Blaine smiles shyly. "_Comment est le film?_"

Kurt snorts, but steps aside from the door opening.

"You, my dear, are insane."

"Is this weird? I can be a tad impulsive sometimes…" Blaine says hesitantly, turning slightly away, as if he's planning to return to his car and drive the two hours back to Dalton.

"Don't be asinine."

Blaine chuckles self depreciatively, ducking his head and scratching at the nape of his hair, but he crosses the threshold. Kurt takes his coat, securing it on a hanger.

"Have you eaten? I was about to order Chinese. I feel too lazy to make dinner tonight."

"I could eat," Blaine murmurs.

"Good. Here's the menu, let me know what you want."

"What are you having?" Blaine asks, eyes skimming quickly through the options.

"You know what; I just can't make my mind up."

"I'm not gonna try pronouncing it, but this looks good," Blaine says, pointing in the menu.

"I was actually considering that one or scampi, number 47."

"We could share?" Blaine suggests, already taking his phone out of his pocket and searching the menu for a phone number.

Kurt agrees, and Blaine has dialled the number before he can take charge of ordering their food.

"Anything else?" he mouths, while waiting for the restaurant to answer.

Kurt shakes his head, and checks the refrigerator for mineral water. There are only two cans of diet coke, so he runs out to the garage where his dad stores the cans to take advantage of the winter cold and save fridge space.

"The food should be here in 45 minutes."

"Good. So…"

"So?"

"So, did you bring your French books?"

"I did," Blaine says bashfully. "But we don't have to do my homework on a Saturday evening, if you have better things to do."

"Blaine," Kurt sighs exaggeratedly. "Shut up and grab your books."

"Yes sir!" Blaine salutes.

"Now behave, or I will replace you with my formerly enticing plans of a home pedicure."

"Bossy," Blaine teases, but takes his books and binder out of his satchel.

They work efficiently, and by the time the door bell signals the arrival of their food, they've almost completed Blaine's homework, and the things that didn't make sense at all back at Dalton are clear and obvious to him now.

"How much do I owe you?" Blaine asks as soon as Kurt comes back to the kitchen.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Dad left me money for food."

"How much did he expect you to eat?"

"He's used to feeding my step brother. He left more money that I can eat up." Kurt opens the paper bag to take out the food container. "Either we got the wrong order, or you ordered more food than I knew."

"Yeah, I added spring rolls, I'm a sucker for those."

"Chopsticks or fork and spoon?"

"Is that even a question?" Blaine winks, wiggling his fingers.

"Is it okay if we eat in the living room? I'm feeling chilly, and have a really nice, warm blanket in the couch."

"Of course. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, nothing to worry about. Help yourself to whatever you want to drink from the fridge. Could you bring me a diet coke?" Kurt says, picking up the bags and heading for the living room.

* * *

They are settled in the couch, sitting face to face with the thick wool blanket covering their legs. The tasty food is accompanied with easy conversation. With all the lit candles, Blaine can't help but imagining it as a date. He knows it isn't, and had no ulterior motives for showing up but his French homework and wanting to spend time with a friend who was on his own a Saturday evening. His own family is still in LA, not coming back until the weather is warmer for his asthmatic mother. And most of his friends at Dalton were out on their own Valentine's Day celebration. Sebastian was still at Dalton, and even though he lives one floor down with the other underclassmen, it's reason enough for Blaine to get out of the place.

"Did you want to try the chicken?"

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"Never," Blaine insists, balancing a generous helping of chicken and rice soaked in the spicy sauce between the chopsticks. Holding a cupped hand under the food to prevent soiling the blanket, he reaches both arms out for Kurt. Kurt looks questioningly at him.

"Here comes the choo-choo train," Blaine sing-songs.

Kurt rolls his eyes, but obediently leans forward and opens his mouth.

"Such a good boy," Blaine says amused, feeding Kurt carefully to avoid spearing him with the sticks.

Kurt hides his mouth behind his hand as he chews, blushing slightly, swallowing heavily. Maybe Blaine had been a tad too generous with his sharing.

"Would you like some scampi?" Kurt returns the offer shyly.

"I'd love some," Blaine nods. He can see how Kurt hesitates for a second, before taking a deep breath and expertly scooping up the food with the sticks, presenting it for Blaine.

Blaine can't help but look at Kurt through his eyelashes as he ducks slightly to take the food.

They continue on their food, alternating between feeding themselves and feeding the other. Both boys are blushing at the intimacy of it, but Blaine chooses to rationalize it as solving the problem with too many options on the menu. When they've finished it all, Kurt gets up to clear away the trash.

"Would you like to watch a movie? Or play a game? Or something?"

"Or something?" Blaine chuckles. He can't help but tease when Kurt is blushing so delicately.

"We Hummel men have always been board game fantasts, and have a huge selection. Could that be of interest?"

"I'd love to," Blaine beams sincerely. He remembers how they played both Yatzy and Scrabble at Bellefontaine, and had a lot of fun with that.

Kurt leads way to a cabinet, and opens the double doors. It's brimming with different games, some he recognizes, some he doesn't.

"Ooh," Blaine squeals, almost jumping in his eagerness.

"I take it you've picked a game," Kurt says dryly, and Blaine nods enthusiastically.

"Only if you want to play it too," Blaine hurries to add.

"Which one is it?"

Blaine jiggles out the right box, careful to avoid jostling anything and make an avalanche of boards, dices, tokens, cards and other pieces.

"_Risk_? I'm game."

Blaine cheers, and skips back to the coffee table, the big box secured safely in his arms.

"I'm blue!" Kurt yells after him.

"_Dah bah dee dah bah die. Dah bah dee dah bah die, dah bah dee dah bah die_."

"You're such a dork," Kurt rolls his eyes.

"David says I should come with a warning. Can you believe that guy?"

"Yes," Kurt snorts. "So, are we playing for world domination, or sticking to missions?"

"There's only one way to play _Risk_, darling."

"Bring it!"

* * *

"We should have set a time limit," Kurt groans. They've been playing for three straight hours, and are still no closer at picking a winner. The blue and purple soldiers flow over the map in wave after wave, replacing each other, recapturing lost land, losing battles, but going nowhere with the war. Blaine seemed to be winning at a moment, but got unlucky with his dice, and was too eager to withdraw, ending with losing most of his soldiers, and then Kurt had a chance to build up his strength – but not strong enough to finish Blaine off.

"Well, what time is it? We can set a deadline now, but I'm pretty sure you are dead soon."

Kurt looks disbelievingly at the map, half and half blue and purple. He looks even more disbelievingly at his phone.

"It's almost midnight."

"It is the witching hour!" Blaine croaks with dramatic flair. "Wait, seriously? I should be on my way back to Dalton," he hisses when Kurt nods.

"Curfew is in fifteen minutes."

"I need to text David to let him know I'm late. And Wes."

"You… You could just stay the night, you know?"

"Are you sure your parents are fine with that?"

"Nobody is coming back until tomorrow. And I hardly think dad would like to know that my friend was doing two hours long drives in the middle of the night instead of sleeping safely in his house."

"I didn't bring anything. I didn't think I'd stay this long. I'm sorry for not keeping track of time," Blaine says, sounding sincerely upset.

"It's not a problem, and I'm sure we can figure something out. You're welcome to stay if you want to."

"Okay. Okay, thank you, I really appreciate it. I'll just text Wes and David, so they don't organize a search party for me."

"Can we agree on shared world domination?"

"Yeah, seems like the world is big enough for the both of us."

"Good," Kurt firmly states, and begins collecting and sorting all the tiny pieces back in the box while Blaine updates his friends about his whereabouts.

* * *

The Hudmel house doesn't have a guestroom – of course, otherwise Finn would have gotten that instead of sharing the basement with Kurt. The broken air mattress Blaine tried to sleep on after the party hasn't been replaced either.

Kurt wrinkles his nose in disgust as he looks at Finn's bed.

"Finn's such a boy," he groans. "Even if I changed the sheets, I don't think I'd dare sleep in his bed without cross-examinating him about it first.

"The coach is more than fine," Blaine reassures him, turning around to step up the chairs.

"Or… My bed is big enough for the both of us, you know," Kurt says hesitantly, cringing slightly, because remembering and reminding Blaine about what they did the last time they saw that bed perhaps isn't the wisest thing to do. He most certainly is _not_ some predatory gay, trying to seduce Blaine.

"Oh. Yeah… I guess it is."

Kurt had found him a spare toothbrush and pyjama pants, and they're both ready for bed. They just need to decide where that bed is.

"When are your parents coming home?"

"I don't know. They are spending the night in Columbus, but I don't think they had any plans for tomorrow."

"Maybe finding a stranger sleeping in their couch isn't the best scenario?"

And thus, they decide to spend the night in the same bed.

"Thank you for helping me with my French reading," Blaine murmurs in the mostly dark room. Kurt's bedside lamp is the only light source.

"Don't mention it," Kurt smiles. French is something he's good at, and he hardly shed a calorie helping Blaine. "And…" He takes a deep breath, tasting the words in his mouth before letting them out between his lips. "I remember you talked about how much you like Valentine's day. I'm sorry no hottie scooped you up for an amazing date, and you had to settle with me."

Kurt turns his head towards Blaine, and is surprised to see the boy looking almost hurt, and confused.

"I… I actually was kind of asked out," Blaine says, but the way he cringes makes it obvious it wasn't an option to say yes. "I like _you_," he says and hurriedly adds "I like spending time with you" before Kurt can really wonder if he actually emphasized the you in that sentence.

"Thank you, Blaine, I like you too," Kurt smiles softly. "You're a good friend." He yawns hugely. "Time to sleep, Blaine. Turn over and I'll be the big spoon, so you can close your eyes and pretend to be wrapped up in the arms of the man of your dreams."

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Eiffel 65 – _Blue_


	41. Morning Glory

**AN: Dear lovely readers, thank you for having patience with me! There are two main reasons for this delayed update: I came to an important milestone in my other story, so I made a priority of finishing the chapters dealing with that break through. Those of you who are following both of my stories, understand what I mean. There will be times when I'll give this story priority too, but usually I work on them simultaneously. The other reason is that my exam is approaching, so I'm spending more time with my books and less time in here, sadly. But this exam is as important to me as auditioning for NYADA was for Kurt, so I hope you can understand it's my top priority the next weeks. I'm not abandoning anything, just writing slower.**

**Thank you for the reviews and feedback after last update, and I hope you'll enjoy this as well.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or anything you may recognize in here. **

* * *

Sunday morning Kurt wakes up slowly, feeling warm, rested and pleasantly drowsy. And restricted. Blaine may have fallen asleep as Kurt's little spoon, but some time during the night the roles have been reversed, and Blaine's heavy arm over his waist from behind is holding him down. Their intermingled legs aren't exactly making it easier to get up from bed either.

Not that Kurt minds.

It's been a long time since he's felt this… serene, sated, stressless. He has nothing rushing him this morning. He can take his time, being lazy and store up extra energy for his reserve batteries. At least until Blaine eventually stirs, and as a good host he'll make him breakfast. But not yet.

He stretches carefully, to work out some of the post sleep-knots in his joints, without rousing Blaine. The boy moves behind him, tightening his hold around Kurt and pressing them flushed against each other.

Blaine may not be up yet, but something else is.

Kurt wonders if he should be embarrassed or freaked out by this, if he should ease out of Blaine's grip to make this less uncomfortable and mortifying. But he realizes he really isn't feeling any of those things.

The old Baby Penguin-Kurt made kissing and sex to substantial biggies in his head, convincing himself it was daunting and precious, unique and sacred, something to almost fear, out of respect.

The last months have proved to Kurt that kissing Blaine is overwhelmingly good, but not life altering. And the two times they ended up doing more, had been… Well, the first time had been really good, better than any orgasms he's experienced on his own, and it had been so easy to just flow with it. And the second time had been comforting after Sebastian revealed he knew about Kurt's sexuality. So sex can be many things, but certainly not scary.

He eases his feet loose and with great difficulty turns in Blaine's arms. The boy grunts in annoyance, fisting the back of Kurt's pyjamas, and shuffling closer. Kurt can feel him hard against his thigh, and can't help but be affected, his body responding in turn.

The morning sun is forcing its rays through a narrow gap in the curtains, softly illuminating the room and creating a halo over Blaine's head. It makes his face glow, his hair shine and creates interesting shadows pronouncing his jaw line. Kurt's hands are itching to touch, to feel, to run his fingers through Blaine's hair. Because it feels good. And he likes feeling good. He hasn't felt that way all that much lately, but a bed and Blaine is a foolproof combination to please him. Literally.

Blaine has been such a good friend, helping Kurt getting used to Dalton, keeping him fairly sane and composed, and providing really good distractions and distractingly good feelings.

A stab of guilt flares in Kurt, for being so selfish. What kind of friend has he been? What has he done for Blaine? How has he contributed to anything between them? He's just been concerned with having and taking and needing, with no concern to Blaine.

He'll have to make amends.

He shifts subtly, still feeling Blaine hard against him.

Blaine tenses around him, before relaxing, eyes fluttering, and then the most adorable lip smacking. He blinks a couple of times before scrunching his eyes closed, and yawns with a moan. He stretches without letting go of Kurt, and his movements rub his erection against Kurt's thigh.

He freezes, before more or less jumping away from Kurt.

"I'm sorry!" he whispers, staring wide eyed at him.

"Breathe," Kurt laughs easily, closing their distance again.

Blaine chuckles awkwardly, a blush painting his cheek bones, and he ducks his head, chest heaving rapidly.

"Hey," Kurt whispers, running a hand through Blaine's curls, mustering all the courage he can find, and then some. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine coughs. "I just didn't expect to wake up… like that."

"I didn't mind," Kurt says shyly, and oh god, he's so not a porn star. Sexy suave is absolutely not his default mode. Softly, he kisses the corner of Blaine's mouth.

The other boy inhales sharply, exhaling an awed _Kurt_, before kissing him reverently, as if he can't believe what they're doing. Kurt responds eagerly, and doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss. When they are like this, it's as if he doesn't need to think or plan or consider or decide. He just _does_. His lips, hands and body know on their own where to be and what to do. One hand is firmly, but gently, gripping Blaine's curl, and the other is toying with the hem of his own t-shirt Blaine borrowed for the night. Blaine is tightening and opening his fist in jerky movements against Kurt's back, as if his hand can't decide between clutching to him or running over his body.

When Blaine's pelvis bucks, he apologizes into Kurt's pliant mouth. He simply shushes Blaine, curling a finger around the waistband of his own pyjama pants covering Blaine's body.

"I could give you a hand," he murmurs in his ear, kissing down the jaw line to Blaine's plum lips.

"_Kurt!_" Blaine whimpers breathlessly, his body seeking out Kurt's as a magnet once again.

Kurt meets his shallow thrusts, angling his body to Blaine's perfectly. His tongue copies the movements into Blaine's mouth. He can feel a hand lowering on his back, fingers spread to hold him close. He dares to slip four fingers between the fabric and Blaine's glorious skin.

"Let me," he whimpers, tugging at the elastics.

"Okay, yes, please, Kurt, yessss," Blaine moans and hisses.

Kurt doesn't hesitate; the instant he hears Blaine agree, he follows with action before he can question himself. He lowers his hand down Blaine's pyjama and underwear, and it doesn't take long for him to find his prize. He curls his long and slender fingers around Blaine, and it's so warm, hard over soft, heavy and big, and solid, and _there_. It's so familiar, and still so very different.

Blaine is already panting and moaning, his hips trying to meet Kurt's sloppy movement. Kurt is kissing his neck, his jaw, his earlobe, everywhere except his mouth, to avoid choking the gasping boy.

Frantically, Blaine lowers the fabric of his clothes halfway down his thighs to grant Kurt better access, and it gives him a firmer hold and unrestrained movements. Blaine is blabbering wordless sentences, nonsensical guttural moans. He loses balance when he tries to move his hands to touch more of Kurt while arching his body into Kurt's hand, and falls down on his back. Kurt quickly straddles him, almost without breaking the pumping rhythm. He lowers his upper body to kiss Blaine sweetly on the lips; a stark contrast to his right hand jerking off his friend.

"You're amazing," he whispers against Blaine's lips, who is randomly flicking his eyes between Kurt's hand and Kurt's eyes, as if he can't take in enough of what goes on. "Everything you've done for me…" He moves his lips down, covering warm ground, biting and sucking on salty skin.

"Kurt… So _good_!"

His hands are clasping uselessly, stretched out on the mattress. Kurt quickens the pace, and Blaine instantly grasps the sheets. Kurt tries to copy the things he enjoys himself, and Blaine's response of strictly vowels makes him feel confident he's doing okay.

"I'm gonna…" is the only warning he gets, before Blaine tenses, eyes locked on Kurt's, his lips forming a perfect O, a guttural moan, and then he pulses in Kurt's hand, decorating the black t-shirt with white body paint.

"_Kurt…_" Blaine murmurs, clearly pronouncing all four letters, sounding dazed and awed. He leans up to kiss Kurt tenderly, and when he with a shaking hand hesitantly cups Kurt, it's all it takes for the boy to fall after him over the edge. Having his own name moaned like that obviously is a kink, Kurt's post-orgasmic brain is able t muse.

They share a shy smile, and Kurt climbs awkwardly and stiffly off of his lap. His pyjama pants are getting uncomfortable, and the magic bubble of carelessness, boldness and bliss burst as soon as they came.

Neither is very comfortable in their clothes or skin, so they quickly get out of bed. Kurt offers Blaine the bathroom in the basement, and runs upstairs for his shower. For breakfast, Kurt makes ham omelettes and sliced fruit. The conversation is somewhat stilted and jerky initially, but they soon loosen up and return to their usual modus operandi.

Blaine excuses himself when they've done the dishes, though, stating he should get back to Dalton before Kurt's parents come back home. It's not the worst logic.

"Thank you," he says sincerely, and Kurt blushes, "for helping me with my French."

"Not a problem," Kurt replies airily, and they hug warmly before Blaine leaves.

* * *

Finn returns home an hour after Blaine left, and by then there are no traces of Kurt's impromptu visitor. A washing machine with his bed sheets and two pyjama pants is the most suspicious change, but Kurt often does laundry, so.

"Did you have a nice time with Quinn?" Kurt asks innocently, remembering Finn said he'd spend the night at Puck's after the date.

"Yeah, she made me blueberry pancakes for breakfast," Finn beams. "Oh crap," he adds too late. "Wanna pretend I didn't say that?"

"You dawg," Kurt teases.

"Promise me you won't tell mom?" Finn begs, down on his knees in front of Kurt sprawled on the couch.

"Now why would I do that?" Kurt asks in honesty. He has his own illicit sleepover to cover, it wouldn't exactly be right to rat on Finn just because he's a worse liar than Kurt.

"Thank you," Finn puffs out his breath, obviously relieved. "After the whole baby-incident and being kicked out of the celibacy club she's changed her attitude a lot, and her mom was on a date of her own, so it gave us the chance to…"

"TMI!" Kurt quickly interrupts. "I'll cover your ass, but I don't need to hear about it."

"Cool, dude," Finn says, and Kurt rolls his eyes at what has become a term of endearment. He taps at Kurt's feet for space in the couch. "So what were you up to last night?"

"Nothing much," Kurt shrugs, and curls up. "French homework, Chinese food, and a lazy morning in bed."

"You're living a crazy life," Finn grins, before his smile quickly falters. "Shit, is it okay to say that?"

"Say what, Finn?"

"Did I offend you by saying you live a _crazy_ life? You know, with everything going on?"

"I may be depressed, but I hardly believe that qualifies as crazy. Although, I could ask my shrink the next time I see her if I'm there yet," Kurt says playfully.

"How are you holding up, though? You look better, but I don't want to assume, and you got pretty good at hiding stuff…"

Kurt decides to think the question through, to give his loving brother a pretty honest answer.

"I do feel better," he eventually concludes. "I still have far to go, but I can see I've made progress since I tried to…" he makes some vague gestures to symbolize his suicide attempt, and Finn shivers.

"Do you still want to… end it?" he asks lowly, scooting closer to Kurt on the couch. An arm is resting on the back of the couch, as if he hasn't decided whether to touch Kurt or not yet.

"No." Kurt shakes his head adamantly. "I swear I haven't felt that low after I was discharged from Bellefontaine. It isn't all sunshine and rainbows. But I clench my teeth and plough through it."

"I'm glad, man. And I'm proud of you," Finn says, finally deciding, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulder and pulling him tight. Kurt groans, and tries to brush Finn off, but he just tightens his hold. "Come on, let's watch some really crappy TV until our parents come home." He channel surfs, until settling for a rerun of Project Runway.

"I'd hardly call this crappy TV," Kurt mutters fondly.

"Potato, tomato," Finn shrugs.

Kurt's forehead wrinkles like a Shar Pei as he watches his sort-of-brother, wondering if what he said was really ingenious or plain stupid.

* * *

Both boys have fallen asleep on opposite ends of the couch, but experience an abrupt synchronized awakening as their parents burst in through the door, all giggling and lovey-dovey.

"Hi boys," Burt greets, and settles down in the recliner. Carole goes to their bedroom with her shopping bags after a departing kiss. "So who did you have over, Kurt?"

"I'm sorry?"

"A car was parked here all night, so I wondered who you invited over. You didn't sound like you had any plans yesterday," Burt says.

Kurt swallows, because he didn't want to be busted like this, and how did they know? Finn looks curiously at him too.

"Did you finally get your money's worth on those surveillance cameras?" Kurt smiles impishly, while desperately trying to formulate a few harmless sentences about Blaine.

"It snowed tonight, but there's a spot of bare asphalt the size of a car standing there all night."

Kurt holds back a relieved sigh. They don't know anything! It's not as if he wants to lie to his father. But there's such a thing as over sharing, right?

Carole returns in the same moment. "Did you ask about the car?" she wonders, sitting down on the armrest next to Burt.

"It was Blaine's," Kurt explains. "He was having trouble with his French homework due tomorrow, so he wondered if I could help him," Kurt says, which is pretty much the truth. "We ordered Chinese, lost track of time, and by the time we called it a day it was late and snowing, so I offered him to stay the night instead of driving in the dark."

"Well, that's good," Burt agrees. "You shouldn't do unnecessary driving in those conditions. I assume you informed his parents, even though we didn't know about it?" Burt asks, looking straight at his son.

"I'm sorry about that, but as I said, it was late, and I didn't want to disturb you on your date. Blaine's parents are in LA, so I hardly think it makes any difference for them if he stayed here or at Dalton," Kurt shrugs. "But we informed the prefect at school," he adds in afterthought, hoping to convey at least some responsibility and maturity with their actions.

"I'll always first and foremost be your dad, so stop worrying about my very successful romantic life, and remember me the next time something happens that I should be informed about." He tries to sound and look stern, but their date has been too successful to be dampened by Kurt for once not being a perfect son.

Carole's thrilling laugher and her kiss on Burt's cheek is all a bit too much for Kurt, so he quickly excuses himself to pack his things before they have a potential new home to check out.

Finn hurries after him, not even trying to muffle his groans of having to see his mother's blatant physical expressions of love.

"You didn't tell me Blaine came over," he whispers frantically.

"I didn't think it was important to you. He came over for French," Kurt shrugs.

"Is French code for something? Like I said I'd play Halo at Puck's? And what are you going to answer if Burt remembers to ask where Blaine slept?"

Kurt's mouth falls open. He hadn't though about that. And if Finn is perceptive enough to ask, he should expect Burt to be too. He looks around the room, as if hoping to spot a nest where he laid Blaine to sleep.

"French is code for homework," he says absentmindedly.

"Are you dating?" Finn asks next. "'Cause I still think you kissed a lot during the party, even after we stopped spinning the bottle."

"I promise you, we're not dating. I'll swear on anything; I did not sneak Blaine in for a secret romantic Valentine's date." Kurt insists, hoping Finn won't catch the lie by omission.

"Would you have told me if you were, though? Because I'm totally cool with that, I just want you to be happy, man. And I know Puck isn't embarrassed to buy condoms, even though he never uses them himself, so he could probably help you out too, if it got to it."

"Oh my God, Finn, TMI, okay?" Kurt shrieks, sticking his fingers in his ears. "I'd be happy to talk with you about a lot of things, but let's keep our sex lives out of it, okay?"

"Does that mean you have a sex life?" Finn asks curiously, grinning widely.

"If I'm not dating anyone, how could I possibly?" Kurt answers truthfully, because what they have done has been far from sex. It's just been… getting off, with some assistance.

"I hope you get it all one day, bro."

"I'll let you know when to send me a PG-rated celebratory gift basket," Kurt snorts.

* * *

"Anderson," Wes greets him solemnly from bed, resting one ankle over his bent knee, his laptop leaning against his thighs.

"Montgomery," Blaine nods, glancing over to the screen to find out what his roommate is watching. It's something with kittens and a fast forwarded soundtrack from Abba.

"I assume the French tutoring went well?" Wes says, his face and voice too neutral to be sincere.

"It did," Blaine says fighting off a blush, and turns away to keep himself busy with a few stray sheets of paper on his desk. His index finger brushes over a hickey above his collar bone he'd discovered after the shower, now safely hidden under layers.

"Blaine, we need to talk."

Blaine stiffens, it's a Pavlovian response, but that sentence never means anything good. He turns towards Wes again, his show face on.

"Has something happened?" he smiles slightly, making sure to look concerned and relaxed, listening and attentive.

"Blaine, cut the crap. I know you, remember? It's a waste of energy to pretend in front of me."

Blaine sheds his mask immediately. Sometimes he forgets how well Wes can see him.

"Why do we need to talk?" he sighs, sitting down primly in Wes' bed at the boy's insistence.

"I worry about you," Wes says without preamble.

"I think I'm doing pretty well," Blaine shrugs. "I haven't had nightmares in a long time, and I haven't had any depression spells since I was discharged from Bellefontaine. I'm working on the social anxiety-issues. I actually feel really good," he smiles sincerely. 2012 has been a pretty good year so far for Blaine Anderson.

"I think you're setting yourself up for heartache and disappointment, and I just want you to be more careful."

Blaine simply stares at him, feeling rather confused.

"I see how you look at Kurt, you know. I see how taken with him you are. I see how much time you spend together, how close in you let him, how many of your private rules you break for him, how your face lights…"

"Okay, okay, you can stop, I get your point," Blaine uncharacteristically interrupts Wes' preaching. "So what if I have a crush? It's not the first time, why do you worry now?"

"Because," Wes scoots closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, "you've never been this obvious and invested before. So far, it's just been some distant gushing with me at bedtime, you've hardly talked to your crushes before. Not the charming barista, not the cute sales assistant at GAP, and not the ripped PE-sub who was here for two weeks. You've just flailed and blushed on your own. While now, with Kurt, you're so dedicated to him, and I'm just waiting for you to crash and burn. So I worry about you. I'll be here to pick up your pieces, but I'd rather avoid it happening in the first place," Wes inhales deeply to catch his breath after the long speech.

"Wow…" Blaine exhales soundlessly. "Okay, I guess there's no point in denying that I'm… _intrigued_ with Kurt," he says somewhat evasively. "But why are you so sure it'll end that badly?"

"Because you've given him your fragile little heart, and I don't think Kurt recognizes the responsibility he has to keep it safe."

"I'm sorry, do you mind speaking English?"

"I may not know Kurt, but I do see how he looks at you. Rather, I see how he isn't looking at you. I know it isn't publicly confirmed if he's gay or not, but at least he doesn't look like he sees you as more than a friend."

Blaine wrings his hands, chewing at his bottom lip. This is a really weird and difficult discussion to have, and he doesn't know what to say to avoid outing Kurt.

"Okay, this isn't about Kurt, he is who he is and it's not my business. I just want you to be more careful." Wes' eyes are pleading with him to listen.

"So what do you want me to do, then?" Blaine sighs exaggeratedly, frustrated and cornered by his observant friend.

"Just… Enjoy the friendship, I don't wish you to drop him. But you need some emotional protection, man."

"If you bring out heart shaped condoms I will do unspeakable things to you in your sleep."

"Will you do it wearing those condoms?" Wes grins maniacally.

"I doubt it," Blaine smirks. "Anyway, you don't have to worry. I'm a big boy who can take care of himself. I really enjoy spending time with Kurt, and I'll be fine. You're just sheltered because you're not used to public high school, but I can assure you that dating and longing and some heartache is pretty normal out in the real teenage world," Blaine grins. He may not have a clue to what's going on between Kurt and him, all he knows is that he's unable to let him be, leave him alone, stay away, prevent anything happening between them. It's as if his body is demanding Kurt.

"You seem to forget about Crawford Country Day, although understandable as nobody there is in your target group."

"Touché!" The various couple-constellations between the all boys and the all girls-schools are legendary, even for Barney Stinton.

"Come on; watch some MASH 4077 with me."

"Because Hotlips is so hot."

"And Hawkeye is a fox."

* * *

All four in the car are silent as Burt pulls up in front of a two storey white wooden house. There's a double garage, which probably will be too small for their needs, Kurt's analytical mind already concludes. Then again, the driveway is both wide and long, so they will have room for all of their four cars without parking in the street.

The front side of the house is covered in a grand porch, and Kurt can imagine sitting there during summertime in the shades from the scorching sun, reading books and sipping homemade lemonade. He can picture an elaborate Christmas display, with decorations and seasonal accessories. He can picture Finn going all out for Halloween, making the porch the scariest place in the street.

"Let's go inside," Burt suggests, waving the key he picked up from the real estate agent earlier.

As Burt and Carole have been here before, they give their sons the tour. Hallway, living room, dining room, kitchen, laundry room. Every single room is spacious, without seeming too big. This house is perfectly built for a family of four. It's empty, because the owners have already moved out, so they have to imagine furniture to get a better idea of space and possibilities. A nice fireplace pulls at Kurt's attention. Double doors take them to the dining room, and the fact that the doors can be closed is a good thing, Kurt thinks. Having to watch an empty room can make the surrounding rooms seem colder and less homey. Even though it'll be furnitured, it'll still be empty. Kurt knows his family, and most of their meals are spent around the kitchen table or in the couch in front of the TV. Having a dining room is nice, but not having to care about it when it's not used is even nicer. The kitchen is pretty old, and eventually they'll need to upgrade and redecorate, but everything seems to be in working condition.

The teenagers follow their parents upstairs, where there are four bedrooms and two baths. One bathroom is connected to the master bedroom. Even if Finn and Kurt get a room each, there will still be a room left for guests or other needs. The rooms aren't the biggest; they're smaller than the room he shares with Jeff at Dalton. But they're big enough for a bed, desk and drawer, and Kurt can't help but already plan how they might be able to build an efficient wardrobe solution for him. He's been used to crowded, after living with Finn, and to take advantage of practical solutions to save space. IKEA might be one of his best friends. They'll have to share a bath, but they already do, and if they manage to fit his mom's vanity in his room, he won't need a bath that badly.

There's also a loft, with plenty of storage space.

Kurt doesn't know enough about plumbing and electricity to consider its state, but he assumes his dad and Carole have that covered.

Back downstairs, Carole opens the door taking them out to a garden. From what they can see with snow covering most of the outdoors, it's a big garden with a new, solid fence, rows of trees and shrubs along it, and a bricked barbeque area closer to the house.

The place looks really good, and Kurt would support his dad wholeheartedly to buy this if it had been some years ago. But now?

The drive back to their current house is silent, everybody digesting the impressions of what they've seen. Burt makes a few detours to get acquainted with the neighbourhood, checking out what's in immediate distance. They pick up pizza on their way home, and Kurt is too tired to object.

"So what do you think?" Carole asks expectantly, as soon as they are seated around the kitchen table with their food.

"It looks great, mom," Finn says, and he's come a long way since his aggressive reluctance to sell the Hudson house. "Kurt would finally get rid of me," he says teasingly, winking at his brother, "and it's closer to school, so I could sleep longer in the mornings."

Burt and Carole look at Kurt for his opinion, wordlessly prodding him to share.

"It's a great house," he admits. "But do you really need it? Isn't this enough?" he says, gesturing around them.

Burt looks surprised by his response, and has to look for the right words.

"Does this… Is this about… Are you worried…" He sighs frustrated, clearly knowing what he wants to ask, but not daring to.

"Spill it, dad," Kurt says tiredly.

"Your mom will always be in our hearts," Burt finally says, avoiding questions. "We have a lot of things after her to help us remember. But memories are in our minds."

"I know," Kurt says, nonplussed. "I know I kind of flipped before Christmas, when I saw the changes here and couldn't immediately find some of my mementoes of her. But I don't have any problem with us moving now. I just don't see the point."

"It's so you boys can have more privacy with your own rooms," Carole reminds him.

"But that's my point," Kurt argues. "Finn will be graduating in a few months, and although I'm not updated on his future plans, I assume he'll be moving out sooner rather than later. And so will I, as soon as I'm done with high school. And in the meantime, I spend most of my time at Dalton. It seems like such a waste of time, energy and money to give us separate rooms for just a few months."

"It's not just a few months," Burt says gruffly. "You're forgetting about weekends and holidays. And even though you're supposedly growing up and preparing for a future, you'll always have a home where we are. You think we'd simply offer you the couch and a broken air mattress when you come home from college to celebrate Christmas? You think we wouldn't want you boys to have a safe haven within our walls, were you're always welcome?"

Kurt's dumbstruck, because he hadn't thought about that.

"We plan for the future," Carole says softly, looking lovingly at her husband. "We do imagine a future where you'll come home with a girlfriend or a boyfriend to introduce over Thanksgiving dinner," she says, nodding at Finn and Kurt. "We imagine you coming home for 4th of July with your spouses and grandchildren we haven't seen since Christmas. We want you to always have a home here, no matter what happens in your lives and where it takes you."

"No matter if you boys live in France or Columbus, we hope you'd still pop by for dinner and crashing in your old rooms if it gets too late to drive back home," Burt adds.

Tears are gathering in Kurt's eyes, and Finn looks all shy, grinning dopily. They get up almost at the same time to hug their parents and step-parents.

"Thank you for being the best dad ever," Kurt whispers.

"Yeah, well, just don't bring home grandchildren yet," Burt gruffs. "And the next time a friend of yours is too tired to drive home, we have a guest room to offer him instead of your bed," he adds, looking pointedly at Kurt.


	42. Chemistry

**Thank you to my wonderful reviewers, who gave me a lot of ideas, input, motivation, inspiration and material for this chapter!**

**Warning: I'm not up to date with season 4, so please let's keep my world spoiler free.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything you might recognize.**

* * *

Even though he did his best to reassure Wes not to worry, his roommate's words got to him, and Blaine has spent the last couple of nights after their conversation thinking.

The heart-to-heart with Wes had been stilted, and Blaine realizes he really hasn't a lot of people he can talk with. Wes is probably the best friend he has at Dalton, but he can't reveal everything going on until Kurt comes out.

He's startled by Wes' sudden snores, but his pulse quickly calms down. He knows Wes is a heavy sleeper. He won't be disturbed by Blaine tossing and thinking. He hasn't slept well all week, because his thoughts are keeping him awake. Maybe he should talk with someone about this. But who could that be? Kurt obviously isn't the right person to give Blaine advice about this. Wes is out of the question. Nick and Jeff might have some good advice to offer, considering they boyfriends. But they'd immediately wonder whom Blaine's been hooking up with. Making out with? Been extra friendly with? God, Blaine really doesn't have a clue about what he's doing, if he can't even put a proper name to it.

As far as Blaine knows, Sebastian is the only at Dalton who knows Kurt is gay, and no, eternally no. Blaine will not lean on Sebastian for any kind of help. It's fairly hard to avoid someone and at the same time use them as a guidance councillor. Of course, if he told Sebastian he's having sex with Kurt (have they gone far enough to even call it sex?), the boy might back off. But Blaine isn't that kind of boy. He'd never brag about his "conquests" or use them as bargaining value. He treasures what Kurt and he has shared; it's special for Blaine. It's not as if he had much experience before this, and he's pretty sure the first orgasm with another boy and your first hand job are things you remember for the rest of your life. It's not quite in the losing your virginity-department, but hey, it still matters.

It matters, but it's overwhelming and confusing, and he wishes he had someone to talk with. Someone outside Dalton, who'll actually listen. He stares at David Boreanaz looking down on him, and he suddenly knows whom he'll call.

* * *

Kurt has a wicked sense of humour, and can appreciate some good irony. That's probably why he's laughing maniacally in bed while listening to Neon Trees. Jeff is not in the room, obviously. Thursdays Kurt doesn't have any class to attend for the first period, so he usually allows himself a lazy morning in the room. For those minutes, there's a special brand of calm solitude in their room he can't find anywhere else on campus throughout the week.

"_I feel the chemicals kicking in_," he hums, while thinking about the pills he's just swallowed.

Each morning and night, he has to take the pills Christy prescribed him to supposedly help with his social anxiety and depression. Before going to bed, he's still popping a sleeping pill too. He should probably have read the package inserts to know more about the substances he's feeding his body, but he just really can't care. Christy said they'd help him, so he dutifully follows the nurse's order.

If he reads the inserts, he'll probably just end up feeling he's suffering from all of the side effects, or waiting for those who haven't kicked in yet. He'll rather go with the flow like this; laissez-faire. Ignorance is bliss, indeed.

He's already feeling changes. He can't be sure if it's the pills, if it's the therapy, if it's being at Dalton and away from bullies and McKinley-hell – but something has changed within. Something is not the same, and it is in a wicked sense.

Sometimes he feels as if everything around him is muffled. Colours are dull, sounds are lowered acoustics, scents are faded. Sometimes he feels as if he's the one who's different, as if there's a layer of cotton or a thick film around his senses, his brain and his heart. He can feel numbed and distanced from anything happening around him. And he feels trapped in his own body. It's as if it is slowing him, keeping him slightly distracted so he can't take in everything like he usually does. His brain is acting traitorous as well. He's used to maintaining a certain degree of wariness and hesitance, but now it's as if his brain is making him careless.

In hindsight, he knows that's part of the reason why he was so bold last weekend, offering Blaine _a helping hand_. But he also did it because the mere thought of it made him feel alive. And to actually do it, had made him _feel_. With bright colours, surround speakers, in 3D, special effects, the whole shebang. Blaine had seemed pretty eager too, and ending up doing _that_ with someone as sexy as Blaine? Kurt's not going to refuse himself experiences like that, accessorizing his otherwise grey synthetics-life.

He's been taking the pills for one and a half week, and he may be walking taller in the middle of the hallways, throwing fewer glances over his shoulder, stand more firmly at sudden sounds, and object less when someone who isn't Blaine invites him to their lunch table, asks him to join a movie night, or simply strikes up a conversation before the teacher arrives their classroom.

But he also feels numbed and muffled, and nothing really gets to him. Rationally, he knows The Old Kurt would object wildly to a lot of the things happening, and he thinks Un-Drugged Kurt would be hesitant too. But Kurt-On-Pills just doesn't care. And sometimes, he has a feeling of being schizophrenic, listening to Un-Drugged Kurt arguing with Kurt-On-Pills, pushing and pulling to work out compromises.

It's all very bizarre.

* * *

There's no point paying any concern to the time zone difference; his schedule is so unpredictable it doesn't matter. Sometimes Cooper will spend 18 hours in row on set, while other times he's available 24/7. Blaine's hours when he can try to reach his brother are limited, because he has classes during the day and he wants to be sure he's alone for this conversation. Luckily, the Warbler Council is gearing up for Regionals, so Wes is spending increasingly less amount of time in their room.

"Hey Squirt," Cooper greets, and Blaine can almost sense the fond smile through the receiver. "Are you okay?"

The question stabs at Blaine's guilt. He's not good at initiating contact with his family, and usually only calls if he has important news or something has happened.

"I… I'm not sure, Coop," Blaine sighs.

"Talk to me. I have nowhere I need to be for the next couple of hours. I'm all ears."

He doesn't realize how badly he needs someone to talk to, until he feels his back figuratively stretching after the heavy load is taken off his shoulders.

"Thank you," he exhales sincerely.

With the eight years age gap they may not always have had the closest relationship, but that changed after the Sadie Hawkins. Sure, Cooper can still be a patronizing ass who thinks he's the greatest gift to all of mankind. But his teasing is blunter, the critique less harsh, and he actually seems to be thinking things through before giving Blaine advice. Maybe he should feel treated like a porcelain doll, and detest his brother for the artificial brotherly bond. But for once it feels as if his brother actually sees him and tries to treat him like an individual instead of making him into a mini-me.

During the weekend in LA after he was discharged from Bellefontaine, Cooper and Blaine grew even closer, with a heart-to-heart and some brotherly bonding. During Christmas, they depended on each other to survive the boring formal dinners and expected mingling, being each others wing man to save the other from a particularly painful conversation, and make up excuses on the others behalf for needing to be somewhere else. A nice change from Cooper's usual pattern; chat up as many daughters of their father's colleagues as possible. After Christmas, they've stayed in touch more frequent than usual. There haven't been a lot of phone calls, but almost daily texts to exchange a few words. It's all been superficial, but it's felt like a lifeline Blaine could use if he needed it.

And now he needs it.

"Do you remember I told you about a boy named Kurt?" Blaine says hesitantly.

"The boy that stole your heart at Bellefontaine?" Cooper says dramatically.

"You make my life sound like a cheap novel," Blaine gently scolds.

"But I do remember how you swooned. Have you heard from him lately?" Cooper asks, and Blaine realizes he hasn't updated his brother on Kurt at all, not after the bigbrotherly teasing when he was home after the last discharge.

"That's one way of putting it…"

So Blaine tells him about how they stayed in touch via Skype and texts throughout December, and the unexpected discovery of Kurt attending Dalton in January. He tells him how happy he was to see him again and how quickly he realized he still felt the same for the boy. And how he feels even stronger for him now. He tells Coop about the party Kurt invited him to, and with a huge amount of embarrassment from his side and an even greater amount of giggling and whistling from Cooper, he briefly explains how the night had ended. He explains sadly how he wanted to ask Kurt out for Valentine's Day, but thought better of it because the boy isn't out at Dalton. He talks for a long time about how uncomfortable Sebastian makes him, and how fiercely protective he'd felt about Kurt when Sebastian blatantly stated he had to be gay. He fears his blushing will stay permanently when he has to admit how he comforted Kurt afterwards, and then proceeds to reveal how their Valentine's Day ended.

"Oh Blaine, that's a lot to spring on your unexpecting brother all in one, I don't know how to react in which order, I have so much I want to say to you right now," Cooper says, managing to laugh hysterically while cooing, sounding sympathetic and proud all at once. "My baby brother is growing up, and he _got some_!"

"Coop," Blaine pleads, "I didn't call to brag. I need advice from someone who knows and understands me, who won't tell anything to my parents, and who doesn't know Kurt so I don't accidentally out him."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Cooper insists, trying to choke down the last fit of giggles. "It's just…Wow…"

"I knew it was stupid to call you," Blaine mutters.

"Hey, don't say that, I'm really trying here, you just caught me off guard," Cooper sounds almost offended.

"Should I call back some other time?" Blaine offers.

"No, it's okay, I know how to suppress inappropriate feelings and step up for the occasion. I'm an actor, after all. But I'm also your brother. What do you want to discuss first?"

"What to do?" Blaine waves his free hand frustrated in the air, even though he realizes Cooper can't see him.

"What are the alternatives, then?"

"It feels as if I'm stuck in a rut with no available options," Blaine sighs, finally plopping down on his bed after pacing around on the floor.

"The way I see it, you have several things to consider. Do you want to date him, be his boyfriend?"

"I really, really do," Blaine murmurs.

"And is that possible while he's closeted?"

"Theoretically, yes. We wouldn't be the first to keep a gay relationship secret. But I don't think I would be able to go through with it."

"I didn't think so either," Cooper says fondly. "You always wore your heart on your sleeve; you've never been able to hide your heart or pretend. I assume Kurt knows how you feel?"

"I'm pretty sure he does. I haven't told it straight to his face, but I think I've hinted to it enough. Besides… I'm not exactly the kind of guy who fools around," Blaine snorts.

"But does he know that?"

Blaine is silent for a long time.

"We've never talked about what we're doing, or our sexual pasts," Blaine says carefully. "How the hell am I supposed to address something like that? _Oh Kurt, I never do things like these, you're the exception?_ What a cliché…"

"Maybe you should think carefully about why he is that exception? And in the meantime, I think your only option is to wait for him to be ready to come out, and be a good friend he can find strength from. And hey, if that friendship happens to come with benefits, what's so wrong about that? We all have urges and needs," Cooper smirks.

"Umm, right," Blaine blushes. "Thank you for listening to me, though. I didn't know where else to go."

"What are brothers for, ey?"

"So, how are you doing? Any girlfriend yet?"

"Of course," Coop grins. "I'm auditioning for this and that, but otherwise I have plenty of free time, and I've dated…" Cooper hums while counting under his breath. "Oh, probably ten girls since Christmas. LA has a lot of potential," he smirks.

* * *

The conversation with Cooper may not have been the most useful, but at least his brother tries and offers advice from his own specific perspectives. And it was of great help for Blaine to be able to talk uncensored and unhindered, and to listen to himself falteringly putting words to his muddled thoughts and emotions.

He can't regret what they did last weekend, but part of him still thinks it was… Not exactly wrong, but still not right either. He has honest feelings for the boy, and can easily picture him as a boyfriend whenever Kurt feels comfortable coming out at Dalton. It's not that being out is a dealbreaker for Blaine, but he doesn't think he would be able to keep it a secret, as Cooper pointed out. His impulsive and enthusiastic streak would probably risk outing Kurt, just because Blaine always feels so much whenever he feels. So he has no other option but to show patience, and wait for Kurt to gain enough confidence to be himself in school.

In the meantime, Blaine probably should narrow their interactions down to getting to know each other even better, and some easy flirting. Not that Blaine is a master of romance, or an Anderson manizer to Cooper's womanizing. But some things are too good not to be said, and the butterflies tickle so deliciously in his tummy whenever he manages to make Kurt's face blush or his eyes sparkle.

But.

Kurt wants Blaine. He has to, right, considering what they've done so far? And it feels so, so good to be wanted. For as long as Blaine can remember, he's been met with rejection and hate, being unwanted, unloved. When Kurt touches him, it makes him feel special. It makes him feel desired, and not simply in a sexual way. Kurt makes him feel chosen and needed, and it's not something Blaine is used to, and he craves it. His brain keeps telling him to avoid sticky situations like these, but his heart is so ecstatic when Kurt reaches out, and he can't help but dive in and soak it up.

And when he can hear how Kurt is enjoying himself, when he can see with his own eyes how far gone Kurt is, when he can acknowledge that he – Blaine Devon Anderson – made someone feel that great; it makes him feel accomplished. Blaine is more used to being a disappointment and a failure. He's gained that kind of insight through the therapy with doctor Whimchester, and is able to acknowledge his Achilles' heels. Knowing about his weaknesses is not the same as dealing with them, though. But he's trying.

Through his therapy, he's learned to count successes in all shapes and sizes, to split his goals up in waypoints, and aim at them gradually. He's learned to avoid setting himself up for failure, if there are better solutions that'll help him reach the finish line. And he's learned to appreciate the smaller things, to increase his happiness. Being someone Kurt wants, and being able to help Kurt feel good? At least it makes Blaine feel he's done something right and can be of some value. It's a confirmation that he isn't entirely useless, and it's a reassurance that not everybody is let down by him and his actions.

So yes, maybe he shouldn't have let them go that far, maybe he should have known better and waited until they are actually dating. But although he can wait for Kurt's confidence to rise, he also craves the renewed self esteem he got after their encounters. He just needs to figure out how to combine those conflicting stances. That's why he left Kurt so soon last Sunday. He could feel himself slipping, fighting the urges to already treat Kurt as a boyfriend. He doesn't know how to name what they do. Friends with benefits? Is it even a thing between them, should he not hope for it to happen again? No matter what it has been and might be until Kurt is out, they're not boyfriends. So Blaine had to leave, before crossing the boundaries between friends and boyfriends.

As if those weren't already rewritten and confuddled between them…

* * *

The conversation with Blaine had been needed. But Wes isn't sure he got his point through, and he's not convinced Blaine is as safe and in control of the situation as he tried to make an impression of.

It's not the first time he's tried to sit down with Blaine to talk about Kurt and him, but Blaine is too charming and engaging for Wes' own good. Even though he knows Blaine pretty well, Blaine knows him equally well, and is sometimes too efficient at straying Wes away from a topic if he doesn't want to talk about it.

He'll have to pay extra careful attention to both boys. He worries. And he worries about Kurt too. He can see how he struggles, how distant and skittish he is.

David nudges his shin under the table, and Wes shakes his head to pay attention to the choreography Sebastian is demonstrating for the rest of the Warblers. It's really good. Most of the choreography Sebastian suggests is far better than anything they've done before, and Wes is _almost_ tempted to give him carte blanche for all of their dance steps. At least the Council should consider giving him some sort of acknowledgement for his contributions.

Wes glances at the empty chesterfield chair in the back of the room; Blaine's usual seat during a majority of their rehearsals, from where he eagerly offers an objective input on their performance potentials, and now and then even participate in a fun improvised number. He hasn't been there for a while now, using the upcoming Regionals as an excuse as he isn't a member of the Warblers and thus not competing. Wes suspects it has something to do with Sebastian, though. He's seen how their newest member crowds in on Blaine and is too forward in getting the fragile boy's attention. Wes wishes he knew how to make Blaine come back for their rehearsals. It would make it so much easier to keep an eye on him too. Not that he wants to force him away from Kurt. He just worries about his friend. He wonders if the Council would be overstepping if they told Sebastian to take it down a couple of notches with Blaine. Private-Wes will continue to keep an eye on the wolf and his prey, at least.

Wes is 99 per cent certain Kurt is gay. He hates leaning on stereotypes, and is embarrassed to admit to do so, but there is a certain gay vibe radiating off of the boy. But that's not all. The way Kurt acts, the way he forcibly holds himself together, and that broken expression in his eyes – Wes has seen that before. He reminds him a lot of how Blaine was, when he came to Dalton. Blaine roomed with Sam then, and they'd connected in a way that allowed Blaine to open up and share his past and private life surprisingly fast. He was gay, and it had given him a living hell in his old school. The safety, acceptance, friendships and care Blaine found at Dalton had probably healed him faster than any pills or therapy could.

There are so many similarities between Blaine back then and Kurt, and Wes is convinced the boy has a rough background, and that it caused his transfer in the middle of the school year. Wes doesn't know how Blaine and Kurt know each other, where they've met before. But they do know each other, and must have something in common. Wes' best bet is they met through the gay community somehow. Kurt is a different person when he's with Blaine. Wes has walked in on them talking and laughing, fooling around with Blaine's guitar and having fun in their room – but as soon as Wes arrives, Kurt transforms into the shy, stiff, strictly composed and scared boy, leaving as soon as possible without being impolite.

Kurt is obviously comfortable with Blaine, and they share a relationship that seems even closer and more intimate than the bromance Wes shares with David. And Wes thinks it may be because they are both gay, and will never have to risk defending their sexuality in this school like Wes and David have experienced, no matter how playfully instigated. Somehow, it's easier for their school friends to accept closeness between two gay guys than two straight guys. Wes has seen it time and time again. Before Nick and Jeff began dating, few batted an eye at their closeness and physical friendship. But Wes and David still have to remind their school friends about their girlfriends when they cuddle under a shared blanket during a movie. Woe them all, the day David had to reveal he was recently single. It's almost as if the student mass is so eager to be supportive and accepting, they root for David and Wes to come out, and end up overstepping.

So yeah, he's convinced Kurt's gay. But he's sad the boy so obviously feels the need to hide it. And he wonders if he has any intentions beside friendship towards Blaine, and if their relationship can survive Blaine's unrequited feelings.

A firm hand squeezes his knee, and Wes can almost feel the concern through David's fingers. Automatically, Wes bangs the gavel on the table, and dismisses the boys.

"Let's go to my room and talk," David silently offers.

* * *

The real estate market is an unpredictable and harsh mistress, but evidently, Lady Fortuna had decided to be on the Hudmel's side this time. The owners of the house they wanted to buy had already moved, when a career options took the family to North Dakota. It's expensive for them to handle two mortgages, and that's why they readily accepted Burt's offer, even though it was somewhat lower than asking price. But Burt was not a fool; he knew how to run a business and handle money. They needed to get rid of the house, Burt was willing to buy it – let the negotiations begin.

Of course, they still need to sell their own house, but the real estate agent had assured him that big family houses were difficult to sell. But smaller houses of an ideal size for newly wed settling down for the first time, were far and few between. She was certain that it would be easy to sell the Hummel-house. The house had been perfect for Burt and Elizabeth Hummel back then, and hopefully another young couple could enjoy their first years together in the house anytime soon.

That's why they've decided to start the moving process as soon as possible. The agent would put their house out on the market, and the Hudmel's would get ready to embrace their new house and make it a home.

Even though Kurt came home last weekend, he had easily agreed to come back this weekend too. It's not as if they had seen much of him last time, with their Valentine Dates and all. When Kurt had packed his things and prepared to go back to Dalton that Sunday, Burt had given him the keys to his Navigator. He'd do anything he could to protect his kid, but he also had to trust him. Burt had seen a certain glimmer or shine in Kurt's eyes, reminding of that spark of life and fight he used to have. That sign of improvement was what led Burt to allow Kurt driving his own car again. Kurt had been ecstatic and speechless, just engulfing his old man in a warm hug. The prospect of having a reason to drive probably made it easier for Kurt to agree to come home yet another weekend.

Nobody would be happier than Burt if Kurt really settled down at Dalton, and wanted to stay over the weekend to spend time with new friends. But Burt had a feeling Kurt hadn't made that many friends yet. At least he didn't mention a lot of names when he told them various anecdotes from his school activities. Mostly it was about Jeff, which wasn't a surprise at all, it's impossible to avoid a roommate. Blaine was also mentioned frequently, but Kurt already knew the boy before he came to Dalton. So Burt isn't all convinced Kurt is settling down and making friends. Joining a study group is not the same as making friends. He hopes it'll change for the boy soon.

This weekend might not be the most social either, but Burt would never dare to touch Kurt's stuff and bring over to their new home. Kurt would insist on sorting and packing his own things. Friday night dinner had been a family meeting to plan out their strategies for the weekend. Burt and Carole could take care of most of the house, so during this weekend they'd make a priority of what they needed Finn and Kurt to do.

The new house had been empty for two months, as the previous owners moved right before Christmas. Carole had decided to clean the entire house before moving in, and air it thoroughly. Kurt had offered to help, but they decided it was more important that he box his belongings. Out of nowhere, or more likely via Finn, Quinn had offered to help Carole. Quinn held a soft spot for Carole after she unconditionally opened her home for her when Quinn's own father kicked her out sophomore year.

Burt's just been over to do some measurements in Kurt's new room, and he had been surprised to see several girls engrossed in cleaning and scrubbing and dusting and whatnots of the soapy department. Apparently, Quinn had some kind of power in school, and had enlisted half of the cheerleading squad to help.

Curiously, he walks down the stairs to the basement. He'd left Finn and Kurt on their own, but there's a significant increase in noise this time round, and he though he recognized some of the cars parked along the curb.

The sight that greets him as he stands in the open door makes his heart stutter for all the right reasons: The room is filled with laughing and smiling teenagers.

Puck and Lauren are disassembling Finn's weight bench. Finn is standing in his bed, carefully taking down his posters of football players and rock bands. Santana and Brittany are wrapping up knickknacks in paper, carefully stacking the items in a box while commenting teasingly on Finn's taste in decoration and mementos.

Mike is taking down the heavy fabric they draped from the ceiling to potentially split the room in two and give them an option of more privacy if needed. They won't need it now.

In the other half of the room, Artie – and did they seriously carry him down the stairs in the wheelchair again? – is boxing Kurt's DVDs. Sam is in charge of books. Kurt is gently folding his clothes into suitcases. Tina and Mercedes are probably assigned the task of boxing Kurt's scrap books and photo albums, but they are sitting in his bed flipping from page to page, now and then jumping up to show someone something, eliciting more giggles or groans. Rachel seems to be in charge of framed diplomas and pictures, cooing and smiling at all the memories they awaken.

The basement is a chaos, and Burt highly doubts the efficiency of this. But he doesn't care. Kurt is as close to a full bloomed smile as he's been in a long time, and he's wearing his old clothes; some fancy pants that probably should be in a bigger size and most certainly is last season and therefore can risk manual labour, a complicated shirt, and a scarf draped fancily to keep his bangs out of the way. Burt has his son back. So let the room be flooded with noisy teenagers; Burt can't care.

He knocks on the door to announce his arrival, and is greeted with several Mr. Hummel, Mr. H, Burt, Dad, and Papa Hummel-varieties.

"There are more empty boxes in the garage, if you need them," he announces collectively. "Son, you got a moment?"

Both Finn and Kurt lift their heads to look at him, and he can't help but smile giddily. Yeah, he has two sons. And a wife. They're a proper family now.

"If I could have a word with you, Kurt, and I'll talk with you afterwards, okay Finn?"

Finn smiles and waves, and bounces slightly on his mattress, before attacking the too properly stuck posters.

Burt and Kurt gather by the younger's desk, bent over a rough draft Burt made when he went over to their new house.

"So I tried to understand the ideas you described for your new room, drawing out some options based on the measurements. Does this look acceptable?"

Kurt picks up a clothes hanger from the floor, and Burt wordlessly offers him the yardstick. Kurt hums as he measures, and Burt watches as he moves his hands this and that way, painting a mental picture and grinning impishly.

"It's pretty perfect, Dad. I might come home more often from Dalton just to enjoy my new closet."

"If faking some carpenter skills is all it takes to see you more around, I'll gladly make you anything you want, kid," Burt grins and pats his son's shoulder. "You okay here, anything you need?"

"I'm good, Dad, but thank you."

"I was thinking about ordering a pizza, but I think we might need more," Burt chuckles. "I'm glad your friends are helping you, though. Friends are important," he says, looking at Kurt, hoping he'll get his message through all the way back to Dalton. Burt is relieved to see the progress Kurt is making, and the initial worry and concerns he had about sending him to Dalton are long gone. He knows he hasn't gotten his son back completely, but at least this is a healthier, bubblier and more vibrant version of his son than the one from half a year ago.

"I'd offer to whip up a healthier alternative, but I guess we are too many people with not enough time," Kurt sighs. "Can you at least order one vegetarian, hold the grease?"

"I'll see what they can do," Burt grunts, and walks over to Finn. "Son, we haven't talked much about your new room. Do you have any ideas for it?"

"Oh," Finn startles. "No, not really. It would be nice with a bed and all, but I don't know…" he shrugs.

"Well, this will be your own room, so if you have any ideas for colours and redecoration you should suggest them now. It'll be easier to paint and whatever before we move in the furniture."

"Okay, thank you, Burt. I'll think about it. I hadn't though about options."

"It's your room, and you can do pretty much anything you want. Within a budget, of course. Kurt has made some requests, and we wouldn't do any less for you."

"Sweet," Finn grins, already turning to his friends for input and ideas.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Neon Trees - _Animal_


	43. Redecorations

**AN: Guess what! April 16th 2012 I uploaded the first chapter for this story, so how about a quick chapter in celebration of this anniversary? I should be studying for my exam, but...**

**Warning: I'm not up to date on season 4, so please no spoilers.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Could have done a lot different with it if I did, though...**

* * *

For the first time in a very long time, Kurt has actually spent some time considering what to wear this Sunday morning. At Dalton, he has grey pants or grey pants to choose between from, one of the white button up's – and then a real choice between the blazer or the Dalton sweater, but he always, always prefers the blazer. He feels he blends better in when wearing it.

Yesterday, he had put on some of his old clothes before packing his belongings – skinnies and a shirt that was too old to be fashionable anymore, too new to be vintage, and too far out to really ever come back. It was a shirt he didn't care much for, and could use while packing. It had also been a spontaneous test motivated by his curiousness. How would it feel to wear his old style of clothes? Most of last semester was spent wearing baggy, non-descriptive clothes, in a hope of blending in and avoiding the attention of the jocks. And so far this semester, he's usually stuck with the uniform, also after classes. If he's ventured to the civilian part of his wardrobe at school, he's chosen the most ordinary clothes he has. And when lazing around at home, he's developed a bad habit of shuffling around in sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt. Or even his pyjamas.

Wearing his old style had felt slightly nostalgic, a bit weird, but mostly okay. It probably helped that he noticed how Mercedes and Tina's eyes lit up when they saw him out of sweats, and commented how well he looked. The girls had always understood and supported his fashion interests, even if they didn't understand his fashion _sense_. But his friends are safe; they are used to his antics, they are used to his fashion sense being too forward for Ohio.

During breakfast, Burt announced they'd go to Home Depot to get whatever they need to finish redecorating the boys' new rooms before Kurt goes back to Dalton. Kurt rummaged through three big bags he'd prepared yesterday. He'd sorted out the oversized camouflage-Kurt-clothes he wore last semester, feeling ready to part with them. He'd planned to ask his dad to help him find somewhere suitable to donate them. But now he's not so certain he should get rid of them yet. He doesn't have the same insistent need to hide; he'll feel safe with his dad and Finn. But they are perfect clothes to wear for redecorating and manual labour, and there may be more of those occasions ahead of him. He will not spend any time in Home Depot with clothes he actually cares for, and risk ruining them.

* * *

"So we need boards and mouldings for Kurt's new wardrobe…" Burt thinks aloud in front of the big store.

"…and a thin mattress and fabric," Kurt hurriedly adds, seeming eager. "To make the headboard, Dad, you think I'll sleep against regular hard wood?" he adds when Burt looks questioningly at him.

"I didn't," Burt adds calmly, "so no paint then?"

"Of course we need paint," Kurt snorts. "The walls in my new room are green as an exotic frog. I cannot breathe in a room like that."

"And what are your plans, Finn?" Burt looks calmly at the taller teen.

"Oh, I don't know," Finn mumbles. "I was hoping I'd be inspired while we're here." He looks overwhelmed by Kurt's eagerness.

Burt had hoped it would be a quick affair to do this shopping, but he's beginning to realize it may take longer than expected. Finn hasn't got a clue what he wants to do with his new room, so he'll either take forever, or he'll jump with the first thing Burt suggests – which Kurt probably will object to. And Kurt himself has too many ideas with specific details, and Burt isn't even sure if it's possible to do everything he's pictured. But he can't object, because this is his Kurt coming back, this is the son he's missed for so long. So he'll enjoy this, without complaint. At least not until he's in privacy with Carole. He should have brought her; she's good with stuff like this. This is quickly running out of Burt's carpenter-comfort zone. And Carole did wonders with their bedroom back home.

"I'd suggest you boys go to the paint section and choose colours while I pick up the building material – but I guess you have opinions on mouldings too."

"Of course I do," Kurt grins, jumping eagerly from one foot to the other, and Burt suddenly finds himself engulfed in a quick hug. "Thank you for all of this," he whispers hurriedly, and Burt hasn't even time to pat his son's back before Kurt's stepped back again.

"How can you have opinions on mouldings? Aren't they just narrow planks on top and bottom of the walls?" Finn asks.

"You'll see," Kurt rolls his eyes, but smiles.

* * *

While Burt picks up the foundation material for Kurt's combined wardrobe and headboard, the boys study mouldings. Burt can hear their friendly bickering, and Kurt thoroughly teaching his step-brother about the different types and styles.

When Burt joins the boys, Finn looks properly chastises, and Kurt is beaming, rolling on the balls of his feet.

"You found anything, son?"

"I did, Dad," he says, smiling sweetly with a tilted head, the same way he used to do when he offered to put in hours in the garage to earn money for a new pair of boots or an expensive jacket. The only difference is he hasn't brought homemade muffins for this.

"But?"

"But they are kind of in the highest price range," Kurt admits, chewing on his lower lip.

"Let me see," Burt says, suppressing a sigh. Kurt sidesteps and shows him his heart's choice. Burt should have known. Kurt wouldn't settle with thin, simple mouldings a dollar a feet. He studies the price tag, and these are 13.48 for 8 feet.

"They're really not that expensive," Burt says, and Kurt's eyes widen.

"So I can have them?"

"Sure," Burt shrugs. "And you have to read the price tags better."

"You're the best," Kurt grins, and begins loading the big cart with his chosen mouldings.

Burt double checks the measurements on his drawings, does a quick calculation, and tells his son how many pieces they'll need. He picks up one to have a better look, and it's very Kurt. _Royal mouldings with textured heirloom design_, the price tag says.

"Which colour are you gonna paint these?"

"Probably eggshell, but first I'll have to see which colour I pick out for the walls," Kurt answers immediately. "I was briefly considering gold, to go with the royal theme, but decided it would be too much," he adds.

Of course.

Burt shakes his head in amusement, looking over at the other teen. Finn is gawking, staring at all the varieties of mouldings.

"Do you need anything, Finn?"

"Aren't there already mouldings in my room?"

Burt nods in confirmation.

"That'll do for me."

* * *

_Please tell me you're gay enough to have opinions on interior and redecorating. Kurt_

_Why? Are they criteria that may disqualify my gayness? Does it mean I can't enjoy football anymore? Blaine_

_I'm at Home Depot with my dad and Finn. I do love them, but they are useless for choosing colours and patterns. Help me, or I'll have your G-card revoked. The jury is still out on the football._

_Oh deary, I'll have to give it a try, then. What are your options?_

Blaine doesn't have to wait long, before he receives five picture messages in quick succession, showing five different patterns.

"Why are you so popular all of a sudden?" Wes teases from his bed, briefly looking up from the sheet music he's considering for Regionals.

"I'm appointed interior consultant," Blaine explains half-heartedly, while studying the small pictures from Kurt.

"I didn't know you were interested in that?"

"Didn't you know taste and style are intrinsically connected to the gay gene?" Blaine smiles, while answering Kurt.

_What is the plan for the fabrics? With what other colours will they be combined? _

Wes gives him a once over, taking in the gelled hair, bow tie, Sunday cardigan and pressed pants hemmed above the ankles.

"Do your genes know which decade you were actually born?"

"Hardy har har."

His phone chirps with a new text.

"Still being The Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?" Wes asks, obviously curious.

_Prepare a space over your mantelpiece. Your G-card has been laminated and framed in gold. I'll bring fabric swatches and colour charts to school._

"Kurt's family has bought a new house, and he needs opinions on redecoration for his new room," Blaine says, keeping his voice neutral, although he wants to avoid the topic. This is fearfully close to the topic of Kurt's sexuality.

"Oh, do you know where they are moving?"

"They'll still live in Lima; they merely needed a bigger house. Why?"

"I just wondered if it would affect his attendance; if they moved so far he'd have to transfer or if they moved closer so he'd stop boarding."

"No, he hasn't said anything like that, and I doubt there'll be any changes," Blaine says, thinking about the special arrangements they've made for Kurt at Dalton so that he can finish his senior year over three semesters.

* * *

"Hi Kurt!" Jeff greets him from his desk, as usual sitting bent over his books.

"Hey," Kurt smiles, hangs his coat in their wardrobe, and begins unpacking his weekend bag. "How was your weekend?"

"It was okay. I took Nick out on a date last night, and I've been writing on an English essay."

"That's nice," Kurt says, throwing his dirty clothes in the hamper. Carole had offered he could leave them back home, but he doesn't want to be a burden, and he can take care of his own clothes. "The date, I mean. Boo for having to do homework in the weekends."

"It was a nice date," Jeff smiles. "I know Valentine's Day was just last weekend, but I love him so much and he's amazing. He's been so patient with my dyslexia lately. The least I could do was to give him a nice evening in return."

Kurt smiles and nods to show he's listening, and leans through the bathroom door to put his toiletries on his shelf.

"So what did you do?" he asks when he's back in their room.

"Oh, nothing spectacular, just dinner and a movie, and then we went to _Scandals_ to dance," Jeff shrugs. "Umm, Scandals is…"

"I know what _Scandals_ is," Kurt interrupts. "I'm from Lima," he adds, with a tight lipped smile.

"I didn't know you're from Lima," Jeff says carefully.

"Everybody in my old school knows about _Scandals_," Kurt shrugs, and sits down in his bed with his laptop. He's never been there himself, both because he's underage and because it really isn't his scene. But the jocks had more than once suggested he go there and 'offer his ass to all the horny fairies instead of spreading his fairy dust in their own school'.

"Oh…"

Jeff puts down his book and marker, and whirls around on his office chair to face Kurt.

"May I ask something really personal, Kurt?"

Kurt looks carefully at Jeff, as if the question is written on the boy's forehead. His heart is beating rapidly.

"You may ask, but I can't promise an answer," he eventually replies.

"I just need to know if it bothers you when I talk about Nick and our relationship," Jeff murmurs, avoiding Kurt's eyes. "Because if it does, I can try to talk less about us."

"What?" Kurt gapes. He's never been accused of being even remotely homophobic before, so this is almost a joke, but he can see the sincerity in Jeff's face. "No, absolutely not, that would be ridiculous. After all, I'm…" he interrupts himself. He can't let Jeff know his biggest secret, he isn't sure if he's safe yet. The pills may make him reckless and bold, but he's not ready to let everything go and burst out in flames. "A friend of mine back home has two dads, and two other of my friends are dating. Their names are Brittany and Santana," he adds to explain.

"Oh," Jeff exhales obviously relieved. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I promise, I'm not uncomfortable with you being gay or your relationship," Kurt says sincerely. It's his own sexuality he has issues with.

"I'm glad," Jeff smiles. "There's a zero-tolerance no bullying-policy here, but it doesn't mean people could still be weirded out by Nick and me."

And that's the confirmation Kurt needs to know it's for the better to remain under the radar for as long as possible. There's a risk, and he's not taking it.

"I never asked, but how did the history test on the French revolution go?" Kurt asks, changing the topic. His initial plan was to seek out Blaine with the fabric samples and colour maps, but if he does so immediately, Jeff might take it as if he do have issues with him. So he'll spend the last hours before bedtime with his roommate. Jeff is a pretty nice guy, so he doesn't mind, it just wasn't his top priority tonight.

* * *

Wes talked Blaine into watching today's Warbler rehearsal, wanting his input on their tentative set list for Regionals. The competition will be held at Dalton, so the boys feel the pressure to deliver. Blaine had been hesitant, but he couldn't refuse his friend that favour. He had enjoyed their performance. It was different from their usual style, but an improvement that looked good on them, and he'd told them so. There were more choreography to their songs, and the song selection was a fun mix of old and current pop hits. Blaine had praised them approvingly, and when the Council dismissed the boys, Sebastian had sauntered over to Blaine, thanking him for the kind words and let him know he was responsible for the new choreography.

"I do know how to move my body," he'd grinned, moving his pelvis suggestively, and leering at Blaine.

Luckily, Wes had interrupted, telling Sebastian he needed to talk with him immediately. Blaine had gratefully left the Warblers' rehearsal room, and headed for the dining hall to see if he found Kurt and have dinner with him. The boy had been nowhere to see, so Blaine finished his food quickly.

On his way back to his room, he decides to go by the post room to see if he's gotten any mail. It's been a handful of days since he remembered to check the last time, but it really isn't often he has anything to pick up. His subscriptions to a couple of magazines, random care packages from his mom during the winter months when his family lives in LA, and some envelopes closer to his birthday and Christmas from distant relatives. All other correspondence and communication happen through his email or Facebook.

It's sad, really, because Blaine loves the nostalgic feeling a handwritten letter offers. It may be bothersome to write a letter, fold it into an envelope, buy a stamp and let it take more than 24 hours to reach its receiver – when an email takes only a few seconds. But it touches a part of Blaine's old fashioned soul.

With the tiny key, he unlocks his post box. To his surprise, there is actually mail for him. The February issue of Vogue, and a small package wrapped in brown paper and his name and address handwritten. No sender, though, and his curiosity is peaked. He briefly wonders if Kurt reads Vogue as he tucks the magazine into his satchel, and flips the box over repeatedly, trying to decide its weight, if it makes any noise when he carefully shakes it, if he can find any hints to who sent it or what it is. It weighs almost nothing, but he can't hear anything from the bumpy box. He can't remember ordering anything lately either.

He can't wait to get back to his room to see what it is. There are months left before his birthday, so this is a random surprise of which he has no ideas.

* * *

"Sebastian, sit down and listen," Wes says, pointing at one of the chesterfield chairs in the Warblers' rehearsal room.

"Is the Council unhappy with the choreography I suggested?" he asks, for a brief moment looking uncertain, but confidence is soon plastered across his face.

"I'm not addressing you as part of the Warblers' Council. I'm here on behalf of a friend who's too polite to speak up for himself."

"And who is this gentleman who sent you?" Sebastian leans back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, hands laced in his lap. He looks relaxed, with a hint of curiousness.

"Nobody sent me; I'm here because I worry about one of my best friends." Wes remains standing, arms folded over his chest, and he looks down on the seated boy.

"What is their problem and what has that got to do with me?" Sebastian asks, sounding amused, as if he knows what Wes is hinting at, but daring the boy to put words to his thoughts. Fine.

"You are the problem," Wes says calmly, waiting for a moment to get a reaction from Sebastian, but the boy neither blinks nor blanches. "You're still new and I don't know you all that well, so I'll refrain from judging you. But I know Blaine. He's probably the sweetest soul in this school. He's generous and kind, always ready to offer a helping hand or listening ear."

Sebastian is listening intently, head tilted as if he's waiting for the punch line.

"I get that you're attracted to him, but you need to take it down a notch. Or five. I'm sure you're a sweet guy deep down, but right now you're terrorising him."

"I'm sure Blaine's old enough to tell me if he's not interested," the newest Warbler smirks.

"Blaine's been telling you repeatedly, but either you're too horny to respect him, or you're too dumb to understand him, I haven't decided which yet."

"So his adoptive father acts like a chaperon."

"You see, Sebastian, when you love someone, you do what you can to help them. Blaine's my man, and I've witnessed you enough to be able to do more than just some talking with you."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Montgomery?" Sebastian sounds amused above anything else.

"Take this as a reminder of Dalton's zero-tolerance anti-bullying policy," Wes says calmly, locking eyes with the other to make sure he gets his point across.

"Why are you so protective of him anyway? Are my chances better if I pursue you instead?"

"I'm so sorry, Sebastian," Wes says sweetly, "but I have a girlfriend."

"Such shame," Sebastian smirks.

"Blaine's unique, and I'm not letting you take advantage of him."

"That's what they say about the kids in the special classes," Sebastian snorts.

"Surfaces can be deceiving."

"Don't I know it," Sebastian mumbles.

"So do we have an agreement? You start treating Blaine with some respect, and I don't have to worry about Dalton's policy."

"Yes Sir," Sebastian salutes him mockingly.

Wes gives him one last threatening look, before leaving the boy. He knows this is overstepping, both in regards of Blaine and of the Dalton Code of Ethics. There's a reason he didn't ask his fellow friend David to join in on this conversation – the prefect really doesn't need to know about this conversation. Hopefully it'll be enough to convince Sebastian to calm down around Blaine. Wes has seen how uncomfortable Blaine is with the newest addition to the Warblers. He knows how wary the boy is of his personal space, and how hesitant he is to let anyone in both emotionally and physically. But he also knows how polite and selfless the boy is, and how difficult it is for him to stand up for himself or put the foot down to defend his own needs. David or Dalton may not approve of what he just said to Sebastian, but it needed to be done.

* * *

"I didn't see you for dinner." Blaine sits down primly on the couch, as Kurt gestured for him to do.

"I came down early, and didn't see anyone I know, so I finished eating quickly on my own," Kurt shrugs.

"I should have texted you to let you know I sat in on Warblers. You could have met us in the dining hall when we were done."

"It's no biggie, Blaine. It's just food," Kurt waves it off. "Now, do you have time to take a look on the fabric swatches and colour charts?"

"Of course I do, that's why I came over." Blaine hadn't even been via his own room to open his mystery package, but went straight to Kurt's to offer his help after yesterday's texts.

Kurt picks up a poster sized cardboard from his desk and climbs into the couch next to Blaine.

"Talk me through your ideas," Blaine encourages.

"So," Kurt says, settling down with his feet under him and the samples in his lap. "There's no wardrobe in my new room, so I'm taking the opportunity to make kind of a walk in-closet."

"Oh, that sounds nice, how do you plan to go through with it?"

"Okay, so my new room is fairly long. Dad is putting up an extra wall to make an alcove behind my bed. The wall will be an upholstered headboard combined, so that's where the fabric comes in. We've bough a thin mattress, and I'll drape it in one of these patterns," Kurt says, brushing through the fabric swatches on the cardboard. "Behind the wall Dad will mount a wall-to-wall iron pole hanging down from the ceiling, where I can hang my clothes. On the new wall, we'll make big shelves for my shoes and boots. And on the old wall, we'll make smaller shelves for scarves, hats and other accessories. On the short end, it'll be room for my mom's old dresser for the clothes I'm not hanging up. Underwear and such." Kurt takes a deep breath after his long speech.

"That's amazing, Kurt, it's going to be fabulous, I'm sure!" Blaine gushes. "The only thing I can imagine missing is a proper mirror."

"I already have one. My mom had a vanity, and dad let me have it when she passed away. I use it every day when I'm home." Kurt takes a minute to clear his voice, and Blaine takes his hand to show some support. Kurt looks at him and smiles gratefully, before fixing his eyes somewhere behind Blaine. "Sometimes, I think I can see her in the mirror. When I was little, I'd sit on a small stool next to her, and watch her do her hair and skincare. I'd borrow some of her products to copy her actions. I even made her paint my fingernails," Kurt giggles, remembering a particularly wonderful evening with deep red nails.

"I'm glad you have so many fond memories of your mom," Blaine murmurs, brushing a thumb over Kurt's knuckles.

"She was the best," Kurt sighs. "Or at least the eight year old me thought so," he smiles ruefully, making Blaine chuckle. "But I like to think I'd still be of that opinion. So, what do you have to say about these?" he asks, waving the fabric swatches.

"What other colours are you going for on your walls? And do you want the headboard to function as a contrasting end wall, or do you want it to blend in as part of your calm sleep area?"

"Well, that's the good thing with using fabrics; I can easily drape another over if I get tired of it. I'm not throwing feng shui to the ground, but I'm not afraid of using colours and patterns on my headboard."

"Hi Kurt! Oh, hey to Blaine too! What are you doing?" Jeff comes skipping through the door, Nick right behind him.

"We're planning redecorations," Blaine explains, smiling at the couple. He grabs the cardboard with colour and pattern ideas, hoping the boys won't notice he was holding Kurt's hand.

"I didn't even know that was allowed," Jeff says, looking around in their room.

"No, not here," Kurt smiles. "My family is about to move, so it's for my new room," he explains.

"Oh cool. Need any help?"

"Sure. I've narrowed it down to fewer options, but input on the finalists would be nice."

Nick and Jeff sit down on the coffee table, and goes through Kurt's selections.

"There is a lot of nice stuff here, but it's difficult for us to tell you what to choose. It's your room," Nick eventually concludes.

"What are you using the fabric for? Curtains?" Jeff asks.

Kurt briefly explains about the headboard slash alcove for his clothes.

"If you want my opinion, this fabric is nice on the tiny swatch, but I think the pattern will be overwhelming and chaotic on a big wall," Jeff says, pointing at one of the five.

"Good point," Kurt agrees. "Sometimes it's difficult to imagine how something will look in full scale."

"You've picked a wide range of fabrics. What is your style, really? We've mostly seen you in uniform. Who is Kurt Hummel?" Nick asks playfully.

"A man of mysteries," Jeff laughs, and Nick eagerly joins him.

"I guess I'm still searching," he shrugs, which is fairly true. He's still trying to figure out who he can allow himself to be.

The four boys discuss pros and cons for a while, but the conversation soon turns into a discussion of which flat or house from TV they'd like to live in. Nick and Jeff are intrigued by the Emily and Richard Gilmore's mansion and all the possibilities it gives. Blaine finds Dharma and Greg's apartment interesting, because it's so different from what he's used to. It's difficult for Kurt to decide, but he finally decides on the house with the blue door in Notting Hill – but without a Welsh masturbating roommate, preferably.

When they finally go to bed, Kurt's decided to paint his room in a grey-lavender colour called Italian Iris, and the headboard will not be draped yet. He decides he doesn't like any of the samples well enough, and he'll have to look somewhere else for other options.

* * *

Blaine's almost forgotten about the package he picked up in his mail earlier, but is reminded of it when he packs his satchel to prepare for his classes the next day. Wes is taking a shower in their shared bathroom, so he's got time to open it in privacy.

He carefully unwraps the brown paper, layer for layer, until he finds a note with a familiar handwriting.

_Congrats on the booty, Squirt!_

Blaine groans, and is already blushing when he examines his brother's gift for him. A big box of condoms and lube. Of course. He tucks them in the far bottom of his nightstand drawer, and makes a mental note to be careful the next time he asks his brother for advice.


	44. Feeling Alive

**Hello, my wonderful, wonderful readers! I'm so thrilled to have all of you, and I smile for each new reader, favouriting or review - it's amazing the kind of response I get for this story!**

**I'm so sorry about the late reply, but as I warned, my exam just stole every kind of mental capacity I had, and afterwards I was so exhausted I spent a week with my grandparents doing as little as possible. A rose to everyone who's supported and encouraged me through this exam - I'm happy to announce that I PASSED! I still have one more exam left, but I feel 100 kilos lighter after having completed the first. It was like Madame Tibideaux telling me NYADA would be glad to have me.**

**Of other happy news: Totes McGotes was the lucky soul to give me review number 300, and of course I had to reward that, so the first scene of this chapter is written after their wish - I hope it's resembling what you imagined!**

**I am NOT up to date on season 4 of Glee, so please, please, please no spoilers! Otherwise, I'm happy to chat about the other three seasons, my stories, life, 42, and everything in between.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, and I'm gonna sue them for a lot of unnecessary heartache.**

* * *

When Blaine entered Kurt's room, he found the boy on his back in bed, with his feet stretched up along the wall. He remembered seeing Kurt lying like that at Bellefontaine too, and Kurt had said he liked the stretch back then. Now he had convinced Blaine to join him.

"It's really relaxing in a non-sleepy way. You should try," Kurt encouraged. When Blaine hesitated, Kurt had looked so adorable and cute. "Have I ever lied to you?" he'd asked, managing to sound both teasing and innocent at the same time.

So that's how Blaine finds himself on his back with his feet futilely reaching for the ceiling. They've chatted about harmless topics, laughing and bickering the way they do so well, but now, there's been a long stretch of comfortable silence between them.

"Can you hear it?" Kurt asks all of a sudden, sounding excited.

"Hear what?"

"Just listen!" Kurt shushes him.

Blaine closes his eyes, trying to sort out the various sounds he's hearing, and identifying what Kurt is talking about. He can hear muffled music from one of the closest dorm rooms, he can hear the distant shouts from probably wrestling boys in the common's room, and he can hear his own heartbeat. The soundtrack of the usual background noise is playing its set list of pipes whining and clonking whenever someone uses the bathroom, the swooshing sound of the air condition, and now and then loud bangs when someone enters the floor and the hydraulic slams the door locked behind them.

Silently, Blaine turns his head towards Kurt, only to find the boy in a similar position, looking expectantly at him.

"Can you hear spring is on its way?" Kurt beams.

Blaine closes his eyes again, and focuses his ears on everything outside the dormitories. Trickling water down the rain gutters, trees swaying in the breeze, and a lone bird chirping. King Winter is about to abdicate, and Princess Spring and her world is on their way.

Blaine turns to look at Kurt again, smiling.

"Do you like spring?"

"I like the idea of new beginnings," he shrugs.

Blaine snakes his hand between their bodies, and finds Kurt's, holding it firmly. Nothing else needs to be said on that topic.

"Have you picked out fabric for your headboard?" he eventually asks instead.

"I've ordered quite a few swats from Mode, and we'll see if they can live up to my expectations," Kurt smiles ruefully.

"Only the best for Mr. Kurt Hummel," Blaine chuckles.

"What? You think I don't deserve it?" Kurt asks playfully.

"Au contraire, mon ami."

"Speaking of which, did you see the car our French teacher is driving?"

"Umm, is it a blue one?" Blaine asks hesitantly.

"Seriously, Blaine? _A blue one? _He's driving a freaking 1969 Shelby Mustang. My dad would sacrifice his right arm to be able to take a car like that on a spin."

"Maybe if something accidentally happened to the car, you could recommend a garage for Mr. Young?" Blaine suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kurt twists his torso towards Blaine as far as he can with their oddly angled positions, and Blaine tries not to think about how _bendy_ and _flexible_ Kurt seems to be.

"Anderson, are you suggesting mischief?" Kurt shrieks scandalized, with a smile tugging at his lips and a bright glimmer in his eyes.

"I would never do such a thing," Blaine insists, landing his free hand dramatically over his heart.

"But you know people who could," Kurt smirks. Blaine just smiles innocently, playing along. "Sometimes I think this school is a cover up for something illegal. Everything seems too polished and slightly surreal. Maybe you're all Mafioso kids, being taught how to run your future businesses?"

"Your brain is too sharp for your own good," Blaine laughs evilly.

"So I was right?"

"Yes. And now that you know, I only have one option. And that is… to tickle you to death!" Blaine exclaims, and before Kurt can react, he's straddled the boy, attacking him with his fingers.

* * *

Sebastian is far from stupid. He may seem arrogant and selfish, but he isn't dumb. Wes' "warning" from last week about taking it down a notch with Blaine has made him think. He's still not sure what Wes really meant and what his intentions are, but there's no doubt something about Blaine nourishes a protective streak in the Council member. Sure, Wes had said he talked to Sebastian as a friend of Blaine, but he thinks it may be wise to stay on Wes' good side for the sake of his future with the Warblers, just in case. Sebastian loves to perform, and his parents love a diploma decorated with extracurricular activities.

Lacrosse and show choir are two things Sebastian both loves and is good at, and he'd like to stick to it for as long as possible. But he'd never be happy swaying in the back with the other tenors making harmonies, so he's working hard to earn a position in the spotlight. And to be certain he'll continue to be an obvious candidate for lead singer and a treasured source for choreography, he needs goodwill from the Council. So he won't cross Wes, that's for sure.

But Wes didn't tell him to stay completely away from Blaine, so Sebastian will just have to stay within what's acceptable in Wes' eyes as long as he's observing. To do so, he'll have to understand Blaine better, and figure out what the boy's deal is. Sebastian didn't lie to Blaine back then – the chase is most often half the fun. If Sebastian wanted something easy, there are plenty of guys at Scandals eager to bend over. Most of them are just horny drunks who'd put out for anyone. But some of them recognize the Smythe name or face, and hope that offering him their ass will earn them more than a quick fuck. Sebastian has never promised or given anyone anything, and even though sex is great, he's sick and tired of the expectations, the unspoken demands, the eyes that tell him he should be grateful and give something back – or the eyes of the lovesick morons who think they could be dating a Smythe and move up the social circles through him.

That's what makes it so interesting to chase Blaine. Because Sebastian knows the Anderson-name. Hell, most of the kids at Dalton bring their own ancestries, heirloom, family history and wealth. Nobody needs to impress the others, and nobody needs someone to advance. At Dalton, they can still be themselves, and forget about money, business, wealth, connections, networking, cooperation and competition. Sure, their parents probably have strong opinions about each other, but as fairly young teenagers they are still allowed to just be; most of them aren't being completely groomed to the family path right yet.

Pursuing Blaine Devon Anderson means pursuing a hot boy with gorgeous eyes, full lips he can imagine doing this and that, an ass he can bounce nickels on, and a body that probably looks much better without the hideous uniform. Fucking Blaine means uncomplicated. Fucking Blaine means sex for the sake of sex, and not as a means to achieving something. When Blaine accepts Sebastian, it'll be because he wants Sebastian, and not a Smythe.

Sebastian is actually quite disappointed in his parents' lack of foresight. They are so concerned with imagery, reputation and connections, and they talked idly about potential daughters of family friends and business associates they wanted Sebastian to date and eventually marry. The talked died the instant Sebastian came out to them. The next thing he knew, he was sent to France to "get it out of his system".

Sebastian got an assortment of STDs through his system, and thus learned the hard way about safe sex – but he came back to the States with a clean bill of health and an even greater confidence about his sexuality than before Europe. It disappointed his parents tremendously, and they sent him back to Dalton, which is prestigious enough to garner approval from those whose opinions matter to his parents. The school is known for its hard curriculum, and that fact can probably give his parents an alibi for why he isn't dating any co-worker-daughters yet. They don't mention any girls to him anymore, the rare occasions one of them types him a quick e-mail. If they had been slightly more educated and open minded about gay rights, they might have been looking for the right kind of boy for Sebastian to settle down with among their connections. Sebastian knows some of the sons of his father's network aren't as straight as they seem. But for now, it seems as if they consider Sebastian a lost case and the black sheep of the family. Their focus is now on finding a suitable husband for his 12 years old sister.

If the Smythe's knew about Blaine Anderson, they'd probably shit themselves in excitement, and march front and centre to demonstrate for marriage equality in Ohio. The Anderson's are what his parents would deem a suitable family to connect with. If Sebastian has his way, his parents will never ever know about the prosperous gay bachelor attending his school.

Sex with Blaine would be uncomplicated and hot. Knowing he can annoy his parents by telling them about it in ten years or so, when he's seeing someone who without doubt is a disappointment to them, is just an added bonus.

But first, he has to decipher The Blaine Code. Why is he treated like something fragile that needs protection?

He's tried to observe the boy carefully the last week, but it isn't easy. They don't share any classes, as Blaine is a Junior to his Sophomore. The boy hasn't been to any of the Warbler rehearsals after Sebastian approached him last. The meals are spent with his tight knitted group of friends, which it is borderline impossible to join. Wes has already pissed as high as possible on the Blaine-pole, and David is probably on the same page. The whimsy Jeff and the pensive Nick are the last two of The Fabulous Five, as Sebastian once had heard them call themselves. He remembers how the four boys instantly clicked and become inseparable friends from day 1 of Freshman year. Nobody else could ever join the quartet in the same way. Apparently, they must have adopted Blaine when he came to Dalton last year, while Sebastian was in France, though. The boys are polite, popular, respected, well liked, outgoing and eager to join in on parties and activities. But they never let anyone else into their close circle.

That is, they hadn't done so until now, but from what he can see, Kurt is spending a lot of time with especially Blaine, but is also seen with Nick and Jeff. The Fab Five seem to be expanding, and Sebastian doesn't understand why they chose Kurt. He hasn't seen Kurt all that often, but whenever he spots him, it's together with one of those boys, and most often with Blaine. But the boy seems moody, sulky, mute and boring.

When Blaine continued to reject Sebastian, he'd briefly considered changing his aim to Kurt. But he wasn't quite his type, and his reaction when Sebastian called him out on being gay really put him off. He needed uncomplicated, and not someone with sexuality issues and the closet door held up in front of him.

It annoys Sebastian how he hasn't access to the common areas for the upperclassmen. If he did, he could have observed Blaine more, maybe figured him out and then developed a proper seduction plan.

He's not giving up, though. He'll figure out why Wes is so protective of Blaine, and why Blaine spends so much time with that hysterical twink.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Blaine grins as he walks in on Kurt being busy in the kitchen.

"I'm baking," Kurt answers with a duh-expression and tone of voice. "What did it look like?"

"I can see you are baking. But what makes this Tuesday so special it demands a cake? And what kind of cake are you making?"

Kurt blushes and hesitates before answering, and it amuses Blaine endlessly. He walks closer to the boy, and dips his finger in the bowl to taste.

"Hey!" Kurt objects, not so playfully smacking his hand with the wooden spoon.

"Tell me, then," Blaine prods, plopping a fresh raspberry into his mouth as he leans against the kitchen counter.

Kurt glares at him, and moves the berries further away from Blaine.

"I got cravings in my math lesson after lunch. Mrs. Lee was talking about cake diagrams, and I couldn't stop thinking about baking."

"I didn't see you for lunch," Blaine points out

"I wasn't hungry," Kurt shrugs.

"You still have to eat, Kurt. And although the boys here will appreciate your culinary skills, you can't live on cake alone."

"I doubt I'll be eating any of this, so no need to worry," Kurt brushes him off, vigorously whipping the ingredients together.

"Finding out you didn't have lunch today, you declined dinner, and you won't eat your own baked goods: I think I have three good reasons to worry. Please tell me if something's wrong," Blaine pleads. "I know you're going through a lot right now, but you don't have to deal with it alone. I want to help you," Blaine insists, laying a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm just not that hungry these days," Kurt shrugs again, and pours the batter into the springform pan over the crust.

"Is it raspberry cheesecake?" Blaine asks hungrily. "You need to eat, and if you're not feeling well you can see the school nurse. Or…" Blaine lowers his voice and looks around to see if anyone can hear them from the common's room. "You're still seeing Christy, right?" he whispers.

"Raspberry cheesecake," Kurt confirms. "And yeah," he lowers his voice too. "I see her every Friday. And I'm not sick. I simply have lost my appetite for a while. No biggie. It probably won't hurt these pear shaped thighs of mine either," Kurt laughs humourlessly, slapping said thighs with the towel he used to dry the counter after putting the cake in the oven.

"There's nothing wrong with your thighs," Blaine murmurs, stepping closer to the boy. Kurt blushes delicately, and avoids Blaine's eyes for a moment. It makes Blaine wonder if he overstepped. When Kurt finally meets his eyes, though, he looks pleased, but shy.

"Coach Sylvester thought I could need to loose some weight when I joined the cheerleading team."

"What a moron," Blaine whispers, brushing his hand against Kurt's.

"Coach Sylvester is also the woman who pulled the needed strings to get me here," Kurt reminds him.

"Well, nobody's perfect," Blaine shrugs, and leans closer to Kurt to reach the small plastic bowl behind him on the kitchen counter. With nimble fingers, he picks up the four remaining raspberries. "Open up," he encourages, and a confused Kurt does just that. Before he can object, Blaine's fed him two berries. "I guess I'll have to make sure you eat properly. After all, we're still growing boys."

"You wish," Kurt snorts, but he opens his mouth obediently when Blaine presents the last two raspberries in front of his lips.

* * *

The raspberry cheesecake is a huge success, and as soon as it cooled down, the boys on the floor had lined up to taste. Blaine and Kurt had the first slices of cake, of course, and Kurt had managed to hide away an extra slice for Blaine for the next day. Come curfew, the rest of the cake was long gone. Apparently, there haven't been any good bakers on the floor lately, although most of them are keen eaters.

The Council is running the Warblers hard, and neither Kurt nor Blaine has seen anything to their roommates lately. They spend the afternoon together in Blaine's room, doing homework after finishing the rest of Kurt's well hidden cake. Blaine had promptly split the slice in two, offered Kurt one part, and then threatened to force feed him unless Kurt ate it all. And now they are doing homework. Rather, Blaine is working on an essay, while Kurt is trying to get some of his biology reading done. But he just isn't able to focus properly. He's read the same pages several times, but the words refuse to make any sense to him. His mind drifts off to other topics, and his skin crawls from restlessness.

With an exaggerated sigh, he closes the book loudly, and kicks it down to the floor with a grunt and a pout. Blaine looks up from his furious typing.

"Can't concentrate?" he asks compassionately.

Kurt shakes his head in defeat.

"It just… won't cooperate," he sighs, tapping his head.

Blaine rolls away from the desk, swivels the chair around until he can rest his feet on his bed next to where Kurt is sitting. Kurt loves this about Blaine; when they talk, Blaine gives him his full attention. It makes Kurt feel important and respected. Their conversation is important enough for Blaine to ignore anything else.

"How are you doing, after everything?" Blaine asks softly, gesturing widely around him as if the room contains the answer to everything.

"Fine," Kurt shrugs. He likes to talk with Blaine, but he doesn't want to talk about this.

"I know perfectly well that depressions are different from person to person, but if we have any similar challenges, I'd love to share my experiences, if you want me to."

Kurt smiles timidly at Blaine, because it's so typical of him to be polite and generous, offering something like that; baring himself at the most vulnerable and private.

"There are things I haven't told you…" Kurt hesitates.

"There are things I haven't told you either. Everything in due time," Blaine smiles sadly, but looking steadily at Kurt.

"I'm… I've…" Kurt looks at his hands in his lap, trying to find the right words. He wants to ask if Blaine's ever been on any kind of medications, he wants to know if what he's experiencing since he began taking the pills is normal, he wants to know how to deal with it all. But he can't find the right words.

Blaine gets up from the chair, and sits down next to Blaine. Close enough to be of immediate support, but with enough distance to give Kurt some space.

"Take your time," Blaine offers, patting Kurt's knee comfortingly, before folding his hands in his own lap.

"Will you let me know if I ask you something uncomfortable or too private?" Kurt doesn't dare to look at Blaine, worried the boy will judge him for his forwardness or cowardness, he isn't quite sure which is the most prominent.

Blaine cups his cheek, and turns Kurt's head until their eyes meet.

"Always. I find that honesty is the best way to go," he reassures him. "Feel free to ask me anything. You already know pretty intimate and personal things about me. I'm not afraid to share with you. I trust you, and you're an amazing friend."

"Thank you," Kurt whispers, blinking rapidly, repeatedly, to stop tears from falling. He takes a deep breath, and then one more. "Christy has prescribed me some medications. And I'm not sure if they are the reason why I feel so weird, but some of the weirdness got worse after I began with the pills."

Blaine nods to show he's listening, and when Kurt doesn't say anything more, he opens his mouth.

"What kind of pills are they?" he asks softly.

"Sleeping pills, anti depressive pills and anxiety pills," Kurt exhales, closing his eyes to remember the names, before rattling them off to Blaine.

"I've been on anti depressive pills too," Blaine reveals, "but not the same brand. I needed them back when I transferred."

"Did they help?"

"Yes," Blaine says immediately, and then stops to think. "I can't say for sure if they solved my issues or if they just allowed me to work it all out at my pace. But they did contribute."

"But you're still struggling," Kurt adds, wincing at how accusing he sounds.

"I am," Blaine sighs. "But I'm much better now. I haven't needed the pills in a long time, and have found other strategies to deal with it. Are the pills helping you in any way?"

"Yes. No," Kurt exhales. "Rationally, I can acknowledge that the pills are helping me with some of my issues. But it _feels_ as if they are only replacing them with new problems."

"You're struggling with the side effects."

"Yes!" Kurt exclaims, relieved that Blaine understands him. "I don't feel as on the edge as when I first came here. But I don't feel like I'm really here either. It's as if I'm watching everything from above, floating in a fog. Everything is muffled and blurred," Kurt sighs. "It's as if all colours have been replaced with greys, I can't sense anything properly, and it's as if there's a thin film between me and everything, preventing me from really reacting to and living my so called life."

Blaine nods; he understands all too well how it is. He's been through the same, and can easily relate. He's looking at Kurt, listening, showing him he's there for him.

"Sure I'm excited about the move and redecorating, but it's still just superficial, and I feel as if I'm forcing out the feelings. In fact, the only times I've felt anything without making an effort for it lately is…" Kurt interrupts himself abruptly.

"Is what, Kurt?"

"Nothing," Kurt mumbles, shaking his head and avoiding Blaine's eyes.

"Tell me," Blaine encourages. "It's important; if you can identify what makes you feel good, maybe it's something you can try to do more of."

Kurt groans, and hides his face in his hands on his bent knees. He mumbles something unintelligible.

"I can't hear you, Kurt," Blaine smiles, bumping his shoulder against the boy's.

"The only times I've really felt the last months…" Kurt says slowly, "is whenwemadeout," he rushes the rest of the sentence.

"Come again?"

Kurt chokes on his own snort.

"You know… When we… Kissed. And stuff," Kurt is blushing and looking away, and he looks so embarrassed and resigned.

Blaine remembers well that numbness the pills could provide, how it felt as if he was floating around covered in syrup. He'd already taken up boxing to get in better shape, help his body recover, and as an outlet for his anger and frustration. It turned out to be an excellent source of true reality as well. Taking hits and throwing good punches in the secret Dalton fight club had made him able to feel _something_ in the confusing jumble of pills, therapy and new school. Boxing had been a great relief, and for a brief period, he may have been dependent on it.

And it's that ability to sympathize with Kurt that makes his decision so easy, even though he promised himself to keep a distance and do things in the right order. Kurt looks so sad and dejected, and Blaine may be a pushover for cute, sad boys. But if he can do anything to make Kurt smile, even just for a second, he'll do it.

With that thought, he shuffles closer to the boy.

"Kurt," he says softly, but the boy doesn't look at him.

"I'm just so tired of this muffled version of reality I find myself in," he sighs.

So Blaine cups his cheek again, steering their faces towards each other. Before Kurt can say anything, Blaine's pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

"What… What are you doing?"

"Bros helping bros," Blaine shrugs, swallowing down the feelings he has for the boy. This is not the time to spill his heart.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asks, looking both disbelieving and hopeful.

Blaine lets another kiss be his answer. Kurt sighs and deflates, leaning in, and Blaine wraps him up in a warm embrace. The kiss quickly turns heated. Kurt's eager, as if he's been longing for this, as if he's been starving and Blaine is everything he needs. His hands are roaming up Blaine's torso, landing on his tie and yanking him even closer. Blaine all but falls into his lap, tilting them both horizontally on bed. Kurt quickly flips them over, resting on top of him.

"Thank you," he whispers, before diving in for a deep kiss, exploring Blaine's mouth with a curious, but gentle tongue. One hand is trailing whimsical patterns on Blaine's cheek with the three middle fingers. The other hand is still clutching the tie.

Blaine's hands are resting on Kurt's lower back. Being kissed by him is so much. It's overwhelming in all the best ways, and it makes him surrender and let Kurt devour him, all the while still wanting more of him. His fingers are grabbing uselessly at the shirt fabric, until he realizes he's tucked it out of Kurt's pants. He slips his fingers under to touch naked, warm, soft skin. He moans into Kurt's delicious mouth, and his lips tingle when Kurt hums back.

He lets Kurt be in charge. He briefly wondered if it'd better help Kurt to _feel_ if Blaine took control, but figured part of the _feeling alive_ was also being the active participant. So Blaine is pliant and willing, letting Kurt kiss and lick and nibble his lips, his ears, his jaw line, his throat, his everything. Blaine's hands are running up to Kurt's shoulder blades, down to his strong waist, and up along his spine again.

"Blaine," Kurt murmurs on an exhale, and the whooshing shoots straight between Blaine's legs. He shifts to be more comfortable, and by doing so, Kurt settles down firmer on top of him.

Blaine inhales sharply when he feels Kurt semi-hard against his own growing attention. Kurt discovers it at the same time, and stills, lips grazing motionlessly at Blaine's cheek.

It's not as if Blaine isn't getting anything out if this either, even though he initiated it for Kurt's sake. And he wants Kurt, he really does. He likes to see the boy smile, and he likes to see the boy writhing in pleasure. And he's only human, a teenager as such, and he doesn't know if he could have stopped now if he wanted to.

Testily, he shifts under Kurt, moving his pelvis closer. Kurt hesitates for a second, before meeting his movements, until they build up to a wonderful rhythm, kissing each other eagerly.

Some day, Kurt will feel safer and Blaine can tell him how he feels. In the meantime, they have this.

* * *

They barely complete cleaning up and changing – Kurt to one of Blaine's sweats, before Kurt falls asleep in his arms. From what he's told Blaine, his sleep still isn't the best, even with the sleeping pills. He holds him, letting him catch up on his rest and recharge his batteries through this nap. Kurt's head is nestled on top of Blaine's chest, and they've both circled their arms around the other's torso.

Blaine is still, just listening to the soft breath of the sleeping boy, watching his chest move for each inhale and exhale, the twitch of a hand, his nose scrunched, and Blaine wonders what he's dreaming.

He runs a gentle hand up and down Kurt's back over one of his own t-shirts, and swallows back some traitorous tears that threaten to fall. He feels so much for this boy, it makes his heart stutter and his lungs scream for more air. He's choking on his own emotions, and is longing to express himself. He tries to show tiny glimpses of what he has to offer through actions, but at the same time, he has to lay low to avoid outing Kurt. He longs for the day Kurt will dare to come out at Dalton. Blaine just wants to be his. That's all he wants. Life's never been the same after he met Kurt, and he knows he's falling hard for him, day by day.

"_Before you met me, I was alright," _he sings softly into the top of Kurt's head._ "But things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life. Now every February you'll be my Valentine, Valentine. You make me feel…_"

Kurt stirs, and moves in his arms. He tilts his head up towards Blaine, squinting through narrow eyes and smiling dazed. Blaine has to restrain himself to not lean in and kiss him. That's not something they do.

"That was beautiful. I'm so sorry I feel asleep," he says drowsily, stretching, still in Blaine's arms.

"You looked like you needed a nap," Blaine smiles, giving the boy a last firm squeeze before letting go so Kurt can sit up.

Kurt checks the time on his phone.

"There's still time before curfew. We better get our homework done," he says, reaching for his biology book.

"Sure," Blaine agrees, and gets up to settle by his laptop for his English essay. Although, he knows he won't be able to type a single meaningful sentence right now.

* * *

Ten minutes shy of curfew, Kurt walks back to his own room. He's laughing to himself, trying to understand what happened. Part of him tells him he should be embarrassed and mortified beyond belief by his forwardness. How could he respond to Blaine's sweet kiss like that? And did Blaine offer him pity sex?

But a bigger part of him feels sated and calm, and he feels so _alive_. His senses have been in use, taking in and making the world seem real again. The scent, taste, sound, sight and feel of Blaine – they are all things he needed. It was like water to a thirsty man in the desert.

Soon he'll have to take a pill to help him sleep through the night, but which gives him weird side effects the next day. And the next morning he'll have to take a pill that numbs him and wraps him up in cotton, removing feeling real and really feeling. But he has the moments with Blaine to remind him that he's still able to enjoy something to the core of his soul and body. Not everything is faded and superficial. He still has some substance in the fleeting encounters with his friend.

"Hey!" Jeff greets him as he steps into their room. "Nice pants," he adds, smiling sincerely and nodding at him.

He's wearing a pair of Blaine's sweatpants, but they are label and fashionable. Not quite his taste, but something he recognizes from a magazine.

"I think I've seen Blaine in a similar pair. I know he's interested in fashion, but I didn't know it was something you enjoy too."

"Because of these?" Kurt asks, pinching the pockets of Blaine's pants, and hoping Jeff won't realize the pants aren't his.

"A lot of the guys are actually quite well dressed and know their way around a clothes store," Jeff shrugs. "I know you mostly see us in uniforms or sweats, but David can really clean up nicely when he wants to. And he's as straight as an arrow. Trevor's collection of label clothes is sickeningly huge, because of his mom's shopaholic tendencies. Luckily for us, we can go scavenger hunting in his wardrobe whenever we have a crisis. I'm gonna miss him when he graduates…" Jeff giggles.

"I guess I like to pay attention to how I look," Kurt says carefully. It's not as if Jeff hasn't seen some of the clothes he has in their shared wardrobe, even though they are quite tame compared to his old ensembles.

"Maybe we can go shopping some time together?" Jeff asks hopefully.

"Maybe," Kurt yawns, shambling into the bathroom for his skin care regime, brushing his teeth, and swallowing his pill with a glass of water. He foregoes the pyjamas tonight in favour of sweats. He likes the idea of falling asleep – again – with the scent of Blaine in his nostrils.

* * *

**Lyrics from:**

Katy Perry – _Teenage Dream_


	45. Torn

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the corporate of Fox.**

* * *

If he hadn't been paying such careful attention as he has, Sebastian might not have noticed the slight difference. But it's there, for the keen eye.

The last three mornings, Kurt and Blaine have been inseparable during breakfast, lunch and dinner. While it has been common to see them together, there was always a meal now and then where one of them wouldn't be there. But now – if you can see one, you can find both. Sebastian doesn't know what's happened, and who's herding whom, but the boys might as well be Siamese twins. They are almost acting a bit coupley, if it wasn't for the fact that Kurt seemed troubled by being gay. His obviously gay reflection in the mirror could probably scare him, Sebastian muses. So Sebastian doubts there are any conscious flirting going on between them. But something has changed.

They enter the dining hall together. They pick up their food together. They sit down by their table, together, sometimes accompanied by their friends, and sometimes alone. Sebastian watches them from a distance, observing and taking mental notes, trying to figure out the puzzle.

Wednesday during breakfast, Blaine flips one of his pancakes and half of his serving of bacon over to Kurt's tray, who's only picked up a small bowl of cut fruit and a small box of yoghurt. During dinner, Blaine scoots some of his fries over to Kurt's plate when he looks away. Thursday, for lunch, Kurt picks up the salad, but Blaine takes it away from him and gives him a plate of pasta Bolognese instead. Kurt looks disgusted. Blaine is laughing out loud. Friday, Sebastian is late for dinner because the Council kept them as long as possible to prepare for tomorrow's Regionals before giving them a food break. When he arrives at the dining hall, there's hardly anyone there, but in a secluded corner, Blaine is feeding Kurt dessert with a spoon. Sebastian refrains from commenting it, and ignores them. He hasn't got time to risk dealing with a Kurt who goes all mental.

* * *

Kurt is early when he opens the door to the assigned study room in the dorm building. The study group in math with Trevor, Thad and Henry started out as a daily occurrence, but as Kurt caught up on the chapters, it's been reduced to bi-weekly appointments.

He sits down on his usual seat, spreading his books, papers and pencils in a well rehearsed manner, to have everything close at hand without being clustered or invading the other boys' parts of the big table.

"Hey," Henry greets as he opens the door and slides into a chair next to Kurt.

Kurt is still wary of the boy. He tries to look past his looks, but there are some bone marrow reflexes that are harder to get rid of than others, and Henry's body screams "jock". Kurt hasn't had the best experiences with those. Henry is always the silent one. The study groups have been really helpful for Kurt's understanding of numbers, but they've always been pleasant experiences of the social kind as well, with easy talk in between. During these weeks, he's gotten to know both Trevor and Thad better, and they are two of the boys he can smile sincerely to when he passes them in the hallways. He knows quirks and details about their lives, and he's even dared to open up somewhat and share of himself. It's been mostly superficial and harmless information, but he's also managed to relax enough to share of his usual snarky, dry wit now and then.

Henry, on the other hand, is a non-nonsense kind of guy. He listens to their banter, discussions and jokes, mostly driven by Thad and Trevor. There's always a crooked smile on his lips revealing he enjoys what he hears, but he seldom opens his mouth to share anything not related to their math books. Kurt doesn't know where he has the boy, and it disturbs him. With the lack of insight in the boy's personality, his exterior takes up even greater importance, and makes it more difficult for Kurt to look past the scary jock-resemblance.

He hasn't spent any time alone with Henry before. Thad and Trevor have always been there when Kurt has entered the study room. During classes, there's never been any reason or occasion to bring the two of them under four eyes, despite of Henry often sitting down next to him.

Henry picks up his book, quickly flipping to the right page.

"I believe we completed chapter 12 on Wednesday. Have you had a chance to have a look on 13 yet?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Trevor and Thad?" Kurt asks carefully while turning to the right page in his own book.

"They're not coming," Henry shrugs. "I thought they told you? Thad is busy with Warblers rehearsal before Regionals tomorrow, and as school president Trevor is busy organizing the competition."

"Oh." Kurt studies the page for a moment, without really taking anything in. "We can reschedule, you know. You don't have to do this. There have to be better ways you'd like to spend a Friday evening."

"It's cool," Henry shrugs. "I'm not gonna ditch ya."

"I'd understand," Kurt mumbles.

"You'll have to figure out this and the next two chapters before our math test next week," Henry begins without acknowledging Kurt's comment. "So, trigonometry."

* * *

There's an electric thrumming strumming through the entire school. It's the first Saturday in March, and Regionals is being held at Dalton. Wes has been short and snappish all morning, and not even Blaine has managed to calm him down. A lot is on stake today. It's the first time in 23 years that such an important part of the competition path is being hosted by Dalton Academy, and the administration, the student council and the prefects are busy with the finishing touches. They want to show off their prestigious and beautiful school, but they also want to show that it's far from stifled, old fashioned or reserved for boys born with a silver spoon in their mouth floating through life on inherited privileges.

It's also been years since the Warblers advanced from Regionals to Nationals, and everybody feels it's about time to do something about that.

So Blaine has been dealing with his nervous roommate, trying to calm him sufficiently to stop his gavel from vibrating. If that wasn't enough, he's trying to be a good friend and support David too, who is both a prefect and a member of the Council, and is beginning to feel the strain of his busy positions this weekend. That's why Blaine is in his car on his way to the closest florist. Leaving the protective walls around Dalton isn't something he favours, but he could hear doctor Whimchester's voice in his head when a frantic Wes asked for the favour. The combination of the doctor's insistence to challenge himself more and the dire need of his friend made Blaine go. The administration had ordered beautiful decorations for the mingling area in the assembly hall and to frame the edge of the stage. The flowers were delivered earlier that morning, and Principal Morris' assistant realized they had forgotten to order flowers to the jury and the winners.

But, Blaine has also taken it as his responsibility to make sure Kurt is doing well. The last days he's shepherded the boy through the meals, made him promise to show up and kept an eye on what he eats. He doesn't worry about an eating disorder – Kurt is too smart to be that obvious if he's developing a problem. Blaine is confident the boy is simply unfocused, overwhelmed, tired and generally feeling blargh, and it messes with his appetite. Blaine has after all been in the same position himself.

That's why he took Kurt with him for his floral errand, so they can pick up lunch as well. When food has stopped tasting anything, it can be a good idea to find inspiration from somewhere else than the otherwise satisfying Dalton dining hall. And hopefully having lunch out with a friend is better for the appetite than poking in his tray alone in a corner of the dining hall.

It turned out Kurt was the best possible choice to bring for their floral expedition. Blaine has a sense for colours, shapes and esthetique, and can see if something looks appealing or not. But Kurt has _visions_. Kurt was able to explain the florist what they needed, and how it should look. Together, they came up with three identical bouquets for the judges' trio, and a grand composition for the winning team. The florist made suggestions to improvements, and Blaine was blown away by how Kurt and the woman could compose a bouquet with flowers that individually looked pretty, but mixed together looked stunning. The female florist added suggestions of deep red velvet ribbons, thin sparkling wire and greenery, and then wrapping the bouquets in golden shimmering cellophane.

The woman finished up, while Blaine escorted Kurt across the street to a deli for sandwiches and coffee. Needing the sugar, he even added some caramel and cranberry biscottis. David had been texting him rampantly to make sure Blaine didn't forget anything, and to be updated on the progress. In between, Blaine tried to calm Wes down over the phone, who was calling him for shoe polish (which Kurt could help him out with, allowing the Council member to help himself in Kurt's room). Fifteen minutes later, Wes needed to borrow a tie, as he had a black smear on his own. Fem minutes later, he called to make Blaine buy sand paper, because he'd knocked a chip out of his gavel. Blaine had managed to convince his roommate he wouldn't need the gavel this weekend, and could buy a new one on Monday instead. Ten minutes after that, Wes texted a shopping list, as some of the Warblers might potentially, possibly, hypothetically look as if they might be coming down with some sort of cold in an undecided future: Tylenol, cough syrup, throat lozenges and extra soft paper towels.

"One more text, and I'm shoving my sleeping pills down his throat," Kurt had muttered with a dangerous glimmer to his eyes. Blaine was both delighted and frightened by the boy's sudden determination and decisiveness.

* * *

Kurt takes a deep breath in front of the mirror, adjusting the tie one final time. The uniform was optional today, as he wasn't representing Dalton or participating in a mandatory activity. Staying at school this weekend to root for his friends was his own choice. But he'd opted to wear the uniform anyway. It was just… Easier. He wouldn't have to figure out something to wear, and he could probably blend easier in with the surroundings. There were also people expected at his school today who would ask uncomfortable questions if he didn't dress to his usual standards, something he still didn't feel comfortable merely thinking about.

Jeff had pleaded with Kurt to stay and offer some moral support when the Warblers were competing on their home court. Jeff and his boyfriend Nick had been offered a duet, but Jeff was nervous, and had wanted a friendly face in the audience. So Kurt had relented.

It hadn't been that difficult to do. Blaine had promised to be there weeks ago, although that wasn't much of a surprise. With his family still staying in California, it wasn't as if he had many other places to go in the weekends. Besides, with most of his friends in the Warblers _and_ being an honorary member, his presence in the audience was a given.

What nobody seemed to know, is that the Warblers are up against Kurt's old friends and former team, New Directions. Blaine knew the name of Kurt's old school and Glee club, but had probably not seen the program for the evening yet. Several of the Warblers had been ecstatic to see Sam back at Dalton, when he tagged along with Tina and Mercedes to visit Kurt. But they probably didn't ask or forgot the answers about his current school. With Facebook, Twitter, Skype, email and texts, nobody needs the name of a school or an address to stay in touch.

Kurt hasn't managed to figure out his gut feeling about seeing his old friends competing in his new school. And he sure as hell doesn't know who he'll cheer the most for. He's torn.

May the best Glee club win.

* * *

As soon as they enter the main building, where the competition will be held, Blaine is being whisked away by a frustrated Thad, who needs him to calm down Wes before he freaks out all of the Warblers.

Kurt is left alone in the assembly hall, waiting for the doors to the auditorium to open. He's helped himself to a glass of lemon water and some carrot sticks from the modest, but delicate buffet spread, to have something to hold on to and hopefully seem less lost.

The show-up is surprisingly big, especially considering there's still half an hour before the competition begins. A group of teenagers wearing identical robes are probably one of the competing choirs. There are a lot of adults; probably parents. In the distance, he recognizes who he thinks is Artie's dad talking with Mike's mom. Kurt steps further back towards the wall, trying to blend in, and avoiding having to greet them politely.

He takes a large sip of the soothing water, and closes his eyes as the cold liquid flows down his throat.

When he looks up, Sam and Puck are standing in front of him.

"We thought we recognized you," Puck smirks, and whistles sharply, waving to someone further away. Soon after, Rachel, Tina and Santana have walked up to them.

The two boys are wearing black suit pants, black shirts, pale pink vests and hot pink ties. The girls are wearing chiffon dresses in several nuances of pale pink, with grey details in the corset.

"Someone's looking sharp," Tina gushes as she leans in to hug him, after giving him a questioning glance to make sure it's okay.

"Men in uniform," Santana drawls, fanning herself.

"I really don't think this counts," Kurt mumbles to her over Tina's shoulder.

"Is Blaine around?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, helping out with one of Wes' emergencies," Kurt replies with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't I know it," Sam grins.

"Will you be sitting with us?" Rachel butts in, greeting him with air kisses.

"Umm. I'm not sure," Kurt mumbles.

"It's okay. It must be difficult to decide where your solidarity lies in a situation like this," she says matter-of-factly. "Maybe it's a good thing you aren't competing against us, after all."

"There you are, guys! Will needs you inside," a harried Emma Pillsbury interrupts them. She smiles at Kurt, smoothens the miniscule wrinkles on his shirt after he hugged his friends, pats his shoulder, and whirls away with the singers.

Kurt exhales slowly, and leans further into the wall.

* * *

The first choir is decent. Nothing more, nothing less. Blaine feels confident they are no threat to the Warblers.

Which are the next up on stage.

He watches with pride how Nick and Jeff trade off their shared solo, performing with charm and humour. He's glad his friends got this chance to shine; they've deserved it after being hard working and faithful members since their Freshman year. Blaine has seen them develop their voice control, stage presence and pitch.

The newest addition to the Warblers is nothing to be ashamed of either, though. Sebastian has really lifted the choreography and fluidity of their performance. The three minutes is a true show that proves a wide range of qualities – harmonies, melody, crowd pleasing, dance movements, the silent sacred and the party people. Sebastian is a true asset for the Warblers, and Blaine can easily see how much the boy has influenced them already. He's impressed.

The last number on their set list is a song they goofed around with last fall, where Blaine did the solo, just for the fun of it. The Council decided they liked the harmonies they developed for _Bills, Bills, Bills_ so well, they kept it on their repertoire. But it's Thad who has the solo now instead of Blaine, obviously.

They earn a smothering amount of applause, and Blaine is quickly up on his feet, dragging Kurt enthusiastically with him. Their friends are awesome!

It's a brief intermission before the next performing choir, and Blaine quickly flips through the program. There's something really familiar with the name of the next group; New Directions. Blaine furrows his forehead, trying to think where he can have heard the name before. There's a short article about each choir, but in the dark auditorium, it's difficult to read the tiny font, and it's only the title – the name of the choir, he's able to read.

He's about to ask Kurt, when the emcee enters the stage again. Kurt seems jittery next to him, his left foot tapping restlessly on the floor, and he's repeatedly adjusting the blazer sleeves. He's chewing on his lower lip. His eyes are trained on the wings of the stage, as if he can see the teenagers waiting to access the stage.

In a muffled background, Blaine can hear the emcee introduce them. From McKinley High, in Lima. And it's then that Blaine realizes from where he remembers New Directions.

* * *

The spotlight is focusing on the lone soul on the stage. A person of small stature, but with a huge voice.

"_Don't know why I'm surviving every lonely day_," Rachel sings, prolonging every tone, holding it pitch perfect, and pouring all of her broken heart into it.

Sometimes Kurt feels exhausted from all the triangular drama between Rachel, Quinn and Finn. His loyalty goes to his brother, but he's also sympathetic to his girls. Maybe Rachel more than Quinn, but still, it's tiring and sad to observe them.

It's given some really good performances, though. Rachel is the unchallenged queen of power ballads.

"_If I can't have you, I don't want nobody, baby!_"

And again Rachel finds is appropriate to share her feelings for Finn when he's in a relationship with someone else.

Mercedes and Tina had told Kurt about the traditional girls versus boys-competition. The boys had won, and were thus awarded with the second number for Regionals. An all boys-number is ballsy enough, and Kurt wonders how they'll stand in comparison to the Warblers.

The boys are in a fan formation, with Sam in the middle. It's eerie silent, until he croons:

"_Ooh - Put your loving hand out, baby. I'm beggin'."_

All of the boys; Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie, and Mike sings the chorus, and the harmonies sits fairly well, Kurt notices.

"_Beggin', beggin' you. Put your loving hand out baby. Beggin', beggin' you. Put your loving hand out darlin'._"

The boys run around the stage in a formation that is tidy enough to have been fairly practiced, but is messy enough to seem playful and improvised.

Puck sings the next verse, while Sam and Mike are breakdancing in front of him. Finn is spinning Artie around.

"_Ridin' high, when I was king. Played it hard and fast, 'cause I had everything. Walked away, won me then. But easy come and easy go. And it would end._"

Artie takes the fast-paced rapping sequence, and the other four boys are dancing on their spots behind him, and Artie gesticulates and owns the stage as the rapper he really isn't.

Then Finn takes centre of the stage:

"_I need you, to understand. Tried so hard To be your man. The kind of man you want in the end. Only then can I begin to live again._"

As far as Kurt knows, there's no trouble in paradise between him and Quinn, but one should think so from the emotional presence he has in this song. Maybe Finn simply has become a better performer, he muses.

The audience goes wild, but the boys don't rest, and immediately starts jumping around the stage, egging for more applause as the band plays the intro for the next song and the girls trickle on to stage.

"_I gotta feeling that tonight's gonna be a good night. That tonight's gonna be a good night. That tonight's gonna be a good, good night!_"

They completely own the stage. The Warblers were good, with excellent harmonies, tight dance routines, and a certain unique charm. But New Direction brought the party, and convinced every single member of the audience they had a lot of fun doing so.

"You're friends are crazy talented!" Blaine leans in to whisper.

* * *

As the judges retreat to hand out points and pick a winner, Blaine leads Kurt out of the auditorium to the assembly hall to catch up with their friends and take advantage of the snack bar.

They pick up their fixes of regular black coffee, before heading over to where most of the Warblers are already gathered. Blaine eagerly congratulates his friends with an excellent performance. He notices Kurt is staying a step behind him, smiling politely, but not saying anything. Blaine tries to include him in the conversation.

"You guys were amazing!" he gushes. "But you have some fierce competition in Kurt's old school. Right?" he smiles, bumping his shoulder against Kurt's.

Kurt shrugs, and is about to answer, when Sebastian saunters over to them. Blaine can feel the air stiffen as Kurt is tensing next to him. He wants to take his hand or wrap an arm around him to protect him from the boy who obviously makes him feel this uncomfortable. But the only kind of support he can give is to smile reassuringly at him, and keep Sebastian's attention away from him.

"Gentlemen," Sebastian greets them, grinning wolfishly. "Pack your bags, fellow Warblers, Nationals belongs to us."

Blaine has to stifle a giggle at Kurt's snorting from next to him.

"I'm sorry; did you want to say anything?" Sebastian asks faux polite.

"I think New Directions was better than you," Kurt says easily, but Blaine thinks he can identify a slight waver to his voice.

"Oh really?" Sebastian asks, sounding amused. "And how did you come to that conclusion?" He looks smugly at Kurt, clearly waiting expectantly for an explanation.

"I have to admit _Bills, Bills, Bills_ was a good performance, no complaints there."

Thad murmurs a thank you, smiling happily, and claps the backs on the nearest boys to thank them for their contributions. Sebastian tilts his head, raises one eyebrow crookedly, as if daring Kurt to find anything negative about their other songs.

"As for _Uptown Girl_…" Kurt sighs, and turns towards his roommate and his boyfriend. "The vocals were great. No complaints there. You did a really good job there, Jeff, Nick. But the song is just wrong for you. Nobody's buying it. You're as far from some working class downtown-hero who gets the rich girl as it gets. A bunch of uniform clad private school-boys swooning over the unattainable elite girl? Not believable."

"We're not exactly aiming for an Oscar here," Sebastian rolls his eyes. "It's a fun song and we killed it," he says dismissively.

"_Glad You Came_, however," Kurt continues unfazed, "could have been a really good choice for you. It showcased your qualities as an a cappella group, with your harmonies, beat boxes and techniques."

Sebastian nods approvingly.

"But the solo was occasionally nasal. The choreography was great, except you're too lanky to really suit the moves. As the front figure, you pulled the wrong attention on that number," Kurt concludes, boldly meeting Sebastian's eyes.

Sebastian is seething, hands in tight fists by his thighs.

"And what makes you think you're in any position to act all Mr. Know-It-All, the Glee Edition?"

"I used to be a member of New Directions, who swept the floor with you today," Kurt shrugs, nodding in the direction of Finn and Sam who are approaching them. His eyes shine with pride, though, and he's twirling on the spot, his hands resting on his back.

"You can't be that much of an authority. I saw their performance for Sectionals online, and I would have remembered if you were there. You tend to leave a lasting impression," Sebastian says, not kindly.

Kurt stills, and all Blaine can hear is a sharp inhale from next to him.

Memories flashes in front of Blaine's eyelids, and he remembers a room in Bellefontaine, a text on Kurt's phone from an unknown number, with a video link from who turned out to be Kurt's old cheerleader coach. He remembers Kurt's friends dedicating their performance to him, singing songs about never giving up, about friendship, about better days. It had been an emotional moment for Kurt, so soon after his failed suicide attempt. Blaine had been there, watching Kurt cry and laugh and cry some more after his friends' Sectionals performance.

"I…" Kurt backs, and walks right into his step brother. The small impact startles him, and without looking behind him, he bolts out of the building.

Blaine's gut reaction is to run after him, but Finn's big hand lands on his shoulder.

"What the hell did you do?" he yells.

"I didn't…" Blaine begins, holdings his hands disarmingly up in front of his chest. "He… Finn, he…" Blaine stutters helplessly.

Finn glares at him and the closest Warblers, before taking off after his step brother.

Sam wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulder, and looks searchingly at Sebastian. It isn't until Sam tightens his hold around him, Blaine realizes he's shaking.

"Are you still poisoning your body with caffeine?" Sam murmurs in a hushed voice.

Blaine nods jerkily, and Sam leads him away.

* * *

What the hell just happened? Sebastian wonders to himself. Was Dalton transformed into an asylum while he was in France, or what? He stares with a furrowed forehead in the direction of the departing boys.

"Come on," he says to the Warblers. "We have a trophy to pick up."

David and Wes have taken a step towards where Sam and Blaine went, but stop when the lights blink to announce the end of the intermission.

"Yeah," Wes says, sounding hesitant, "we need to get back on stage."

* * *

**Lyrics from/songs mentioned:**

Destiny's Child - _Bills, Bills, Bills  
_Adam Lambert – _If I Can't Have You  
_Madcon – _Beggin'  
_Black Eyed Peas_ – I Gotta Feeling  
_Billy Joel – _Uptown Girl  
_The Wanted – _Glad You Came_


	46. Blam and Furt

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Fox.**

* * *

Sam guides Blaine away from the assembly hall, but in a different direction than the one Kurt disappeared with Finn sprinting after. The coffee bars in the lecture buildings are closed for the weekend, but he buys them black coffee from one of the automats. He isn't much of a coffee drinker, but it became a habit while at Dalton to have a cup with Blaine whenever the boy needed to talk.

Silently, he leads the way to the dorm building, so they can talk in privacy. Wes will be busy with the Warblers for a long time, and stay away from their room. He gestures for a downtrodden Blaine to swipe his key card at each door, but otherwise takes charge in their walk.

He sits down on Blaine's bed, patting the covers to encourage the other boy to join him. Removing the lid from the coffee cup, he blows carefully to cool it a tad, and waits for Blaine to say something.

"Do you… Do you think Finn hates me?"

"Why would he hate you?"

"It felt very much like he accused me of upsetting Kurt, when I didn't do anything wrong," Blaine swallows through the words.

Sam takes a sip of the coffee, almost scolding his tongue, and sits back firmer against the wall.

"I doubt he was circling you in. I think his gut reaction was to lash out on the closest there, because he didn't know what happened. All he and I saw was Kurt standing next to you, before he stiffened noticeably and bolted off. We don't know what happened. And… Finn is a good guy, but sometimes missteps."

"By verbally attacking random people?" Blaine scoffs.

"I don't know how much you know about their story, but Finn and Kurt haven't been step brothers for a long time. Finn has grown into being the overprotective big brother. And, I don't know, maybe I'm going all Freud on him here, but he used to bully Kurt until he joined Glee, and still he was being a shitty friend, and in the beginning not a very good brother either. So I think he's overcompensating now to make up for it."

"So sometimes he loses control?"

"Sometimes he might not know what to do, and makes the wrong choices. All in the name of brotherly love. But still."

Sam watches Blaine from the corner of his eye. He seems to be thinking it through, while absentmindedly sipping at his coffee. Sam will give him a moment to get lost in his own thoughts, before pulling him back up. Like he always did, when his old roommate had his spells of self doubt, resentment, bitterness and what if-ing.

He takes another sip of the bitter hot brew, and scrunches his nose. It tastes horrible. But traditions are there to be honoured.

"So tell me, what made Kurt take a flight like that?"

Blaine tells him about Kurt's evaluation of the Warbler performance, and the verbal duel between Sebastian and Kurt.

* * *

Finn takes off after Kurt, cursing his brother for being so quick on his feet. Not knowing the school is also to Finn's disadvantage. But when he imagines Coach Beiste's angry face, demanding him to push harder and move faster, he manages to muster that extra effort, and manages to shorten Kurt's head start enough to not lose sight of him as he turns around a corner. He's almost by what Finn recognizes as the dorm building before he's caught entirely up with him. Despite of his shouts, the boy never acknowledged him or made a visible attempt at slowing his pace.

Finn doesn't say anything, but simply grabs his brother, and forces him into a tight hug.

"Let's go inside," he eventually suggests, noticing some teenagers looking curiously at them from afar.

Sniffingly, Kurt extracts the key card from his pocket, and swipes it through the card reader.

Finn wraps an arm around his shoulders, but has to let go as they ascend the stairs. The height difference makes the climb more difficult embraced like that.

In his room, Kurt carelessly kicks off his shoes, throws his blazer on the small coffee table, and tugs viciously at his tie.

"Hey, hey, hey," Finn coos, clumsily loosening Kurt's tie for him. He plays with it between his fingers, not quite knowing what to do. Kurt drops down on his bed, face first.

"What happened?" he asks carefully.

Kurt is clutching his pillows between his arms and chest, and Finn sits down awkwardly on the edge of the mattress. Hesitantly he pats the back of Kurt's head, hoping he won't snap at him for ruining the hair.

"I just want a break from it all," Kurt whispers. "I'm so tired of being weak and scared."

Finn doesn't exactly get how Kurt is feeling, not to the core of it. He can see Kurt feels like shit and is going through difficult stuff. His mom had tried to explain that Kurt's mind was sick, and he gets that those things can happen. He just doesn't understand how it feels. Does the brain hurt when your mind is in pain?

He had a long talk with Quinn about it, who quietly told him about her mother's neuroses. She had compared it to how it is to be madly in love, when your heart takes control of your mind, body and actions. But the difference was, for her mom and for Kurt it wasn't something good being in charge of them. Mrs. Fabray's neuroses and Kurt's depression are something painful and difficult shaping their lives, the opposite of being happily on love.

So Finn thinks he gets it. Being in love with Quinn is a vibrant thought stuck on his mind that makes everything seem happier, better, and overshadows anything else. Kurt's depression is like being in love with someone who doesn't want you, and all the heartache and bad stuff multiplied with a million. Or at least that's how he thinks about it. And Finn really doesn't know how to comfort someone with a broken heart and mind.

* * *

"I wish you'd met Kurt a year ago. You would have liked who he is when unburdened. I know you already like him," Sam hurriedly adds at Blaine's expression. "But he's changed. Not drastically, he's still in there. He was just… You know, less restrained, bolder, more vibrant and colourful. From what Mercedes has told me, he was really getting confident and comfortable about being who he is, after trying to both hide and adjust, but the jocks at school just wouldn't give him a break, wouldn't allow him to be himself. So they tore him down."

"He's told me about some of the bullying and tormenting," Blaine murmurs, sinking lower down in bed. Sam shuffles around, getting closer to the headrest, and pats his thigh for Blaine to lie down.

"The way Kurt went on a rampage against Sebastian earlier? That's typical of him when he's feeling cornered and gets defensive. He could never be of any physical threat to his bullies, but he learned to confuse and cut them with his words. He has this really edgy wit, sharp sass and clever brain."

"I've seen some of his vocal brilliance," Blaine grins.

"Then imagine him always being like that; snarky and funny, running a steady commentary when needed, being able to end the girls' quarrels with only a look and a rushed but pointed comment, and no matter what the bullies did, he always had something to say. When cornered, he'd instantly go to his most trusted weapon – his tongue."

"Do you know if anything particular happened to change that?"

"No," Sam says, shaking his head. "I think his defence mechanisms just couldn't take anymore, the bullies got to him more and more, and he slowly spiralled downwards. It happened so slowly we really didn't see it. Looking back, he changed drastically. But it's really good to see him improving as well. He's in a much better state now than back in October."

Blaine is silent, his forehead furrowed, and Sam knows it means he's deep in thought.

"So, Kurt attacking Sebastian like that is a good sign?"

"It is a sign of Kurt getting closer to being Kurt again. But I don't know why he lashed out on Sebastian like that."

"Sebastian and Kurt… They're not exactly the best of friends," Blaine says hesitantly.

"What happened? I know you, Blaine, you would never say anything bad about anyone, so I know this means they hate each other. But why?"

So Blaine reminds him how Kurt is still closeted at Dalton, and how Sebastian figured part of him out, confronted Kurt with his sexuality, and how it freaked Kurt out.

"Do you think Kurt tries to keep Sebastian in his place to avoid being outed?" Sam asks quietly.

"I'm not sure. Sebastian promised not to say anything, but I don't think Kurt trusts him. I don't know if they interact much, even, I just know that when I see them together, they are having some odd power struggle between them."

"That's so weird," Sam muses. "It doesn't sound like Sebastian at all."

"You know Sebastian?" Blaine isn't able to hide his surprise.

"We were Freshmen together. We were pretty good friends."

"Huh."

"What?"

"He just doesn't strike me as your type, neither as a friend or a boyfriend."

"We never dated, but we were friendly, and had a lot in common."

Blaine looks at him, his face a clear picture of disbelief.

"How is he these days?" Sam asks carefully, not quire sure what he needs to know. Blaine's tales about Sebastian pursuing him isn't what he expects.

* * *

Finn looks apologetically at Kurt as his phone chimes with _It's A Man's Man's Man's World_, signalling Quinn is trying to get a hold of him. His brother wipes off his tears with the back of his right hand while gesturing with the other for Finn to answer the phone.

He feels torn, but eventually answers it before Quinn can hang up and explode in rage. He places a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder, letting him know he's mostly there with him. Quinn would probably hate that she doesn't have all of his attention, but she's an only child; she can't know what it's like to see a brother in pain.

"Hey baby," he says, trying to butter her up, and cringes when he too late remembers she hates that nickname as it only reminds her of Beth.

"Where are you?" she demands knowing in a clipped tone. "I haven't seen you since you said you were going to the toilet, and we have to be back on stage in five minutes."

"Quinn, I…" He doesn't want to rat out Kurt and he doesn't want to make Quinn worry, and he most definitely doesn't want to start the rumour mill among the New Directions. "I'm catching up with Kurt," he says defensively.

"Is he okay?" Her voice turns softer, as if she's sincerely concerned about her boyfriend's step brother.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about," he says, and he should realize what a terrible liar he is when Quinn coos sympathetically.

"I understand. Take care of him. But don't expect me to bring Rachel the bad news. She's already fuming because Sam apparently ditched us to catch up with an old friend he ran into."

"Christ Quinn, you gotta help me, I can't talk to her now."

Quinn sighs, loudly, and for an extended time.

"Luckily for you, I've read the show choir regulations. You aren't needed on the stage. As long as at least one member of the choir is on stage, it can't be disqualified. It'll be like when all of you except Rachel came with me when I gave birth to Beth… Hopefully it's enough to calm her down."

"Thank you, Quinn," Finn exhales. "I love you."

"You'd better, considering what I'm doing for you."

Beat.

"I love you too."

* * *

"So, basically what you're telling me is Sebastian used to be a sweet, shy, nerdy geek?

"I don't know if I'd call him shy, but he most certainly wasn't the aggressive maneater you describe him as. He went on a couple of dates, but I got the impression they were chaste movie-dates."

"That's so weird. I wonder what happened…"

"It almost makes me want to see him again. We weren't exactly BFF, but nobody could beat us in a _Discworld_ quiz, and we'd keep long conversations entirely on sci fi-quotes."

Blaine smiles knowingly. Sam had gotten him hooked on the book series, and it's thanks to him that Blaine now owns the entire selection of pockets, all 39 of them. He'd introduced Kurt to the books at Bellefontaine as well, and the boy is reading his way through the wide collection.

"I try to imagine him in glasses bent over a fantasy book or rooting excited for Peter Parker."

"He's actually unfairly hot in his dark rimmed glasses."

"Who is?"

"Both," Sam grins. "Speaking of hot; any progress between Kurt and you?"

Blaine's instant blush is all the answer Sam needs.

"I see," he drawls. "You decided to put a move on even if he's not out yet anyway?"

"Umm… I don't know if I'd call it that kind of _moves_…"

"Okay, that needs to be elaborated."

Blaine sits up from Sam's lap, curling his legs pretzel style, and taking his time to get comfortable to postpone the explanation.

"We've… At a few occassions we've kind of… I haven't asked him out on a date yet. But we've… kind of… you know…"

"No, I really don't know, although I'm imagining various scenarios. Not all of them fit with you, though."

Blaine takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Promise you won't tell anyone? Not even Mercedes? Especially not Mercedes!"

"Hey," Sam says, squeezing Blaine's shoulder comfortably. "We're friends, good friends, and this is between you and me, of course it is."

"And no judgment?"

"Never."

"Okay."

Blaine swallows heavily, licking his lips twice, before exhaling and rushing the words out.

"Kurt and I, we've been making out. And, umm, sometimes going further. A couple of times."

Blaine is unable to meet Sam's eyes, intently picking on a cuticle.

Sam rests his hand on Blaine's shoulder, holding it there until Blaine finally looks at him.

"As long as it's something you both want, that's cool. We're young and horny, and the two of you like each other. Gotta admit, though, it's not what I'd have first guessed, knowing both of you. But I also know how much shit you're going through, so if you can find something good to do together," Sam wiggles his eyebrows, "I'm all for it."

"I know it's out of character for me, and probably for Kurt too. But… I don't know, it's nice to feel wanted and to be that close to someone. And, God…" Blaine shakes his head and chuckles, "he's _gorgeous_!"

"So are you, my friend," Sam winks.

"Besides," Blaine continues, unfazed, "sometimes it seems as if he really needs it, and not as in a hormonal rampant desire. I guess it's about comfort and distraction. If I can give that to him, I'll gladly do it. I care so much about him."

"Sometimes you're too kindhearted, Blaine. Just remember to pay attention to your own heart in this too, okay?"

"I promise," he says, doing the Vulcan salute.

"And there are no rules saying you have to wait until he's out before you date him. Mercedes and I dated in secret for a while, because we wanted to find out if we worked out as a couple without all of our friends snooping and interfering."

Blaine gets lost in thought.

* * *

"You have to tell me what happened, Kurt. What did he do to you?"

Kurt sighs, and dries off the last stubborn tears.

"I guess Sebastian…"

"It wasn't Blaine?" Finn interrupts. "'Cause I kind of yelled at him."

"Oh Finn," Kurt sighs again, looking disappointed at his brother. "You can't just burst into a scene like that and expect to understand what's going on and catch the criminal without any further clues like Mr. Holmes."

"Who's Mr. Holmes?"

"Sherlock Holmes? With Dr. Watson? '_Elementary, my dear'_?"

"It's not elementary if I don't know what you're talking about," Finn objects.

Kurt rolls his eyes as he replies.

"Never mind. Blaine did nothing wrong, so if you yelled at him you owe him an apology."

"I do," Finn agrees. "But who's this Sebastian guy?"

"He's the lead singer of the Warblers, and… He just rubs me the wrong way."

"What does that even mean?"

Kurt gets out of bed, and stops in front of his desk. He picks up a small hand mirror to check his hair and skin after the crying.

"He's just annoying, he irritates me and provokes me, and I don't like him."

"I get that, if he's being an ass. But what did he do to you? Do you need me to find him and talk with him?"

"No, I can handle him," Kurt says, rolling his eyes yet again.

"Yeah, I can see that clearly, when he made you cry and run off. If you won't tell me what he did, I'm telling Burt," Finn says, getting up off bed as well, and standing with his arms folded across his chest, trying to look menacingly at Kurt.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The thought of his dad being told what Finn thought he saw is a scary notion, so Kurt gives him a quick recap of the conversation between Sebastian and him prior to him running away.

"So basically you insulted him, and he asked you where you were during Sectionals?"

"I didn't say anything untruthful. And I don't like to think about last year; I'm trying to move on from it, okay?"

"Hey, hey, I get it, okay?" Finn says, taking two long steps forward and grabbing Kurt by the shoulders. "But he doesn't know you, does he? So he didn't know he touched upon a sore subject?"

"No," Kurt admits sulkily.

"And why did you have to insult their performance? I thought they were cool."

"Yeah well, he's just… Argh, I just can't stand him and his cocky meerkat face. He figured out I'm gay and I don't trust him."

"They don't know you're gay? But isn't that… kind of obvious?" Finn asks as Kurt shakes his head.

"I wear a god damn uniform all day, I keep low and I keep a lot to myself. The school is all about tolerance, so nobody snoops in anybody's business," Kurt shrugs.

"But if everybody is tolerant, you should come out. It should be easy here, and nobody would bully you here," Finn grins enthusiastically.

"Maybe later, I'm still getting used to this school," Kurt says dismissively.

"Okay," Finn accepts. "But if this school is so concerned with tolerance, and Sebastian really hasn't done anything to you, I think you owe him an apology."

"What?" Kurt shrieks, finally ripping himself out of Finn's hold.

"I'm gong to apology to Blaine for yelling at him. And I want you to apology to Sebastian for overstepping or whatever. But you have to start relaxing and stop being so defensive."

"That's easy for you to say," Kurt snarls.

"God, Kurt, it's not like I'm trying to disrespect you or anything, but sometimes we have to be mature about stuff. And even if you hurt, you can't make other people hurt just in case."

Kurt glares at him, almost seething, but he hasn't got anything more to say.

"Would you please tell me where I find Blaine, so I can apologize to him before I find the guys? I wanna know if we won or not."

* * *

The familiarity of resting his head on Sam's knees is comforting, warming Blaine from the inside out. Being the tactile and cuddly boy he is, it was a blessing to have a roommate who enjoyed the closeness. Not to mention how exciting it was to be this close physically to another boy, no matter how innocent it was supposed to be.

"Sometimes I'd think about how I'd never been this close to another guy's crotch before," Blaine blurts out, surprising himself and instantly blushing.

Sam barks out a rich laughter.

"I'm sorry for being a tease?" he asks through his sobs.

"No need to be," Blaine mumbles, still embarrassed. "I don't think we'd ever have worked out anyway."

"I guess so. I saw you more as a little brother than a potential date back then, and now I have Mercedes."

"Your one year older little brother," Blaine points out solemnly. The attack at Sadie Hawkins delayed him a year, and it can still get to him. "And I was in a terrible state, not in a position to date or pursue anything else but getting a grip on myself, while worshipping you for being Amazingly Awesome," Blaine says seriously, briefly thinking about how far he's come since his transfer. "Besides," he says slyly, "you were pretty captivated by one Mr. O'Neill," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I was," Sam admits easily. "He was a good boyfriend. Is he still here? I didn't see him."

"You know Warblers isn't his thing. But yeah, he's still here."

"Maybe I should find him, say hi," Sam muses, seeming lost in thought.

Blaine gives him a moment to reminisce, while mulling over his own thoughts. A question has been forcing its way out. He doesn't want to insult Sam, but he's curious.

"Can I ask you something personal?" he eventually asks.

"Haven't we established long time ago you're my brother in heart when not by blood?"

Blaine smiles shyly, and shuffles to lie more comfortable. It might be easier to ask without being able to look Sam in the eyes.

"Kurt and I talk. A lot. And from what he's said, I get the distinct impression he was the only out at his school. You were there for a year, singing in Glee with him all the time. Didn't you come out?"

Sam is silent for long enough that Blaine thinks he overstepped.

"I don't want you to see me as a coward…"

"Hey," Blaine quickly objects, sitting up to look his friend and former roommate in the eyes. "I'm the one who came here running away from my bullies."

"That's not cowardice; that's surviving."

"I'd never judge you, though," Blaine says sincerely.

"Have Kurt told you about any of the things he experienced in his school?"

Blaine nods, and thinks he already knows Sam's explanation.

"Already on my first day in school I saw how he was treated. It scared me. I was used to the safety here. When he cornered me to ask me to be his duet partner for a Glee assignment, he mentioned he thought I was gay. I didn't exactly lie when I corrected him, I just didn't confirm being neither straight nor bi. If he – or anyone else – had asked, I would have answered truthfully."

"I understand," Blaine says compassionately, and he truly does.

"After spending one and a half year at Dalton, seeing girls was pretty exciting, and I was fresh meat and surrounded," Sam grins, winking at Blaine. You could say a lot of things about young Evans, but full of himself was not one of them. "On my first date with Quinn she asked me if my impersonations worked with the girls where I came from, so I told her I'd been going to an all boys-school. She taught me a lot about dating a girl. Then I dated Santana, who taught me a lot about how two girls are not the same, which I should have known, as dating two boys aren't identical experiences either."

Sam takes a moment to catch his breath in his rapid storytelling, running a hand through his loose hair and smiling hesitantly.

"I actually came out to Santana. I'm still not sure why, because we only dated briefly, and I think we both knew we did because we were single and available, and I had a feeling she wanted to make someone jealous. It took me some time to figure out it was Brittany, and when it dawned on me, I guess I thought coming out to her might help her accept herself. She and Brittany are the only one who knows."

"Not Mercedes? You seem good together."

"I'm not deliberately keeping it a secret. But she's been so troubled by Kurt, so I've focused on supporting and comforting her, being a good boyfriend. I don't think she'll have any issues with it, but still, I'd like to tell when things are calmer."

Blaine leans in to give Sam a one-armed hug.

"Well, I can't vouch for you as boyfriend, but you're a hell of a friend."

* * *

**Songs mentioned:**

James Brown - _It's A Man's Man's Man's World_


End file.
